Unity
by Super V
Summary: Madge and Gale try to do more than be helpless bystanders, and Katniss and Peeta make a secret promise to each other. Two nights spent in secret during the Victory Tour will forever change the future that they gave so much to build.
1. The Feast

**CHAPTER 1: The Feast**

So, this was it. The morning of the Feast of the 74th Hunger Games - though barely. It wouldn't be dawn for a few more hours yet. During the last broadcast, Katniss had drugged Peeta to ensure herself unhindered passage to the Cornucopia, to get what could only be medicine from the game makers for him. Cato and Clove had spent some time assessing the best method to retrieve their backpack, and Thresh had emerged from the field where he had spent the majority of the Games thusfar to wait for morning. The Girl from District 5 was nowhere to be found, but, she rarely was. Katniss had kissed Peeta on the forehead, and then the broadcast ended.

Knowing that they wouldn't want to miss anything, Madge had invited Gale Hawthorne, Primrose Everdeen, and Mrs. Everdeen to stay at her house after the announcement of the feast late last night - no point in them going home if they were just going to have to come back before sunrise. Madge had sent Mrs. Everdeen and Primrose to sleep in her bed. It was only right. After all, they had suffered so much during this ordeal, they could use a little comfort - and she felt Katniss would have appreciated it.

She and Gale found themselves in the study, seated on two armchairs. They watched the static of the TV in complete silence, waiting for anything at all to happen, but it had been a few hours since the broadcast ended, and would be a few more before it started again.

She cast a quick glance at Gale, who sat perched, tense, on his chair. Madge took in his hunched demeanor, his distant eyes, and the dark circles underneath them, all betraying just how exhausted he really was. The boy, well, the young man, Madge corrected herself - he was 18 years of age - Gale's unfocused stare fell to his hands, which were tracing the intricate patterns embroidered on the arm of the chair in which he sat.

Though she was fairly certain he was too out of things to mean anything by it, Madge felt as if he were drawing attention to the chair's elegance, and therefore - its price. Gale had always succeeded in making Madge feel ashamed of her family's wealth, though it wasn't her fault really. She wrapped her robe more tightly around herself, feeling suddenly awkward in the pale pink silk dress that she wore. It had been her mother's, and she loved the way it somehow still smelled like her. Wearing her mother's old clothes sometimes felt like the closest thing she would ever get to hug from her.

She wasn't sure why she was bothering to worry about Gale's thoughts regarding her money, he was miles away right now.

"Coffee?" She asked him, timidly. Even his company would be better than none at all, at this point. The waiting was really starting to put her on edge. Maybe some caffeine would bring Gale back to his senses and they could talk, or something. At least feeling like she wasn't alone in this room would be a step up.

"What?" He asked, turning his head to look at her.

"Do you want... coffee?" Madge repeated, starting to flush a bit. Maybe he didn't even know what coffee was and she was looking privileged just by offering. "You seem tired is all, and we've got at least an hour until they start the feast, probably longer."

"Oh, sure." He was polite, but preoccupied. He went back to staring at the chair, though he had stopped fidgeting. His grey eyes seemed to be staring though all of the time and space between himself and Katniss, as if he could see what she was doing at this exact moment, despite the lapse in broadcast.

"I hope instant is okay, I don't want to risk waking my parents with the percolator." Madge moved to the doorway, waiting to hear anything from Gale, but he kept silent. She paused in the door for a moment, too embarrassed to look back at him, but wishing he would say... just... anything. He didn't.

In the kitchen, Madge heated water in a kettle on their stove top, and fetched two mugs from their cupboard. As she spooned coffee grounds into each mug, she thought back on the events during the past few weeks: Katniss getting reaped had been so devastating to everyone in such small, but palpable ways. For her, the lack of strawberries around her house, watching the slight drag in Primrose Everdeen's steps, and well, him. Gale being a constant presence in her life, rather than an occasional annoyance.

The first week of the televised broadcasts, the training and interviews in the Capitol, Madge had suffered alone, feeling- what was it, guilt? Feeling guilty that she couldn't go in Katniss's stead. Nobody needed her, Madge, but it seemed like everyone needed Katniss. Madge's loss would have been nothing compared to what Katniss's would be, if she didn't make it home.

Once Peeta Mellark, Katniss and Madge's classmate, publicly declared his love for her during the interview, things changed. District 12 became more hopeful about the possibility of Katniss's return, because of the Capitol citizens' response to the whole thing. There was talk that Katniss may receive sponsors as a result of Peeta's confession and her high training score.

That was also the week that the Everdeen's TV set started "acting up." How they knew to come to Madge, she would never know - maybe Katniss had mentioned their friendship, or Primrose had seen them talking at school. Either way, they came to her one night, desperate, asking to watch the Games at her house. They offered Prim's goat as a trade for the favor, saying they had no idea what had happened to their set and no money to get it fixed or replace it.

Of course, Madge had let the Everdeens watch at her house and told them to keep their goat - she and her family had no need for additional expendable income.

Eventually, when Madge was letting Primrose pick out one of her old dresses for the interviews when Katniss made it to the final 8, the poor girl told her that Gale had had kicked their set the night Peeta confessed his feelings for Katniss, and the signal had been inconsistent since - making the Games even more painful and uncertain.

The first few nights, it was just nice not to have to watch alone. Madge's parents had been, well, sick and running the District, just like they always were. Her dad was making an effort to help organize the sponsor fund for Katniss with Sae, the cook woman from the black market, but beyond that, it was business as usual. She had watched alone, and since she had never really talked to any of her classmates, talking to them about the Games would have been weird. She heard plenty of gossip about the whole thing, but never contributed.

It was nice to have people to suffer with, to talk to. On the third night, Primrose had asked her if Gale could come along to watch the next time. He had been watching at their house because the Hawthornes don't have a set, and Gale didn't want his younger siblings watching, in case Katniss died, anyway. Madge had agreed.

He was never talkative, usually angry, and always rude to her, but in some strange way, Madge liked having him around. It was like having a piece of Katniss right there with her. He, when he did speak, speculated on what Katniss was thinking or doing, and he knew her so well, that he must be right.

The night she got the idea to drop the tracker jacker nest, he was so excited. That night he talked - about how smart she was and how risky it would be. He was so certain that she would be able to pull it off. He had hugged Mrs. Everdeen, and even danced around a bit with Primrose. When his eyes fell on her, Madge, sitting in a chair, terrified what the next morning would bring, he had even pulled her to her feet, grabbed her by the shoulders, and, through a rather winning smile, assured her that if anyone in the world could pull it off, it would be Katniss.

The next morning, of course, he'd sobered when Katniss got stung too, when Peeta fought off Cato to protect her, and when she got her hands on the bow and arrow. He was struck mute when Katniss passed out for days because of the tracker jacker venom. When she did finally wake up, it was as if Gale had been holding his breath since she passed out. The Games were killing him, almost as literally as they were killing the tributes.

The day that she sang to the dying little girl, Rue, from District 11 - the day that she killed the boy from District 1, Katniss's mother had cried, and took Primrose from the room, so that she couldn't watch the gruesome scene unfold. Madge and Gale had been left alone then,too. All that poor Gale could say was that he had never heard her sing.

Madge poured the steaming water into the mugs until the hot liquid was black and smelled bitter. She wondered if Gale took cream and sugar in his coffee, and then immediately realized how stupid it was to think about such things. She hated the way he made her second guess herself without saying or doing anything at all. Katniss had never blamed her for being rich, so why did he have to?

After a few more minutes stressing over how to fix Gale's coffee, Madge settled for pouring cream into a small pitcher, and filling a small dish with sugar. She placed these with spoons and the mugs on a tray and brought them back out to where Gale sat, unmoving. He could figure out for himself how he liked his damn coffee.

"Sorry that took so long."

She set the tray on a table between the two chairs.

Gale mumbled ascent and looked at the tray. It was a silver tray, and set upon it were two mugs on saucers, a tiny cream pitcher and a sugar bowl all from the same china tea set. Madge wanted to die. Gale looked at the tea set and laughed bitterly. Madge's cheeks burned.

"I have choices for what to put in my steaming hot coffee, and Katniss is starving to death in a cave. That is rich." Gale scoffed. It was probably the most he'd spoken in her presence in days.

She couldn't say anything in her own defense. He was right.

After a few uncomfortable moments of weighted silence, she took a spoon and dipped it in the sugar bowl. She brought a spoonful of sugar to her cup, dumping it in and hesitating.

"Do you want some... sugar?" She gestured with the spoon to Gale, who was staring at her intently, thinking, she could only guess what. Something terrible, probably. She hated this, why was she being so... domestic with him. Hadn't she already decided to let him figure his own coffee out?

"Do mine however you do yours." Gale said dismissively. "I've never had coffee before. Bit of a luxury for someone from the Seam, if you don't mind me saying so."

Madge began fixing both of the cups of coffee, watching the cream billow into the dark liquid like a tiny storm. "I do mind." She wanted to say, but she kept quiet until both coffees were a lighter brown color and smelling considerably sweeter. She offered his mug back to him.

"Here." He took it, and his hand brushed hers, sending an uncomfortable pang to her stomach. She pulled her hand away quickly, and took a long drink of coffee. She took it in, the smell, the taste, and relaxed a bit. It had been a long night. If they could just make it through the feast, if they could know that Katniss was still alive; she could make it through another another day.

She glanced over from her coffee to see Gale looking at her.

"How's-" She began.

"Fine." He answered. He had taken a sip, but his mug was resting on the table.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, thanks." He answered without the slightest trace of gratitude.

Madge struggled to keep the conversation going, though it was seeming rather futile.

"Uh- are you... hungry? Do you want something to eat while we wait?"

"I'm used to being hungry. You know some families can't just grab a snack whenever they feel like it."

"I KNOW THAT!" Madge snapped, then struggling to keep her voice low, she said, "I know that, okay? I'm trying to be nice to you. Every night that you've been here, I've made food available, blankets, whatever you needed and you've been nothing but cold to me-"

"Maybe because I'd rather someone like you be a tribute in the Games than Katniss-"

"Katniss chose this. She volunteered to go in sister's place, and for the record, my name was in the ball more times than Prim's-"

"Don't you call her that!"

"-Than Primrose's!" Madge was so angry, she was shaking. Why was he being so awful? She was trying so hard to help him, because he was Katniss's friend, but he made it so hard sometimes.

"I know that you think I'm... 'someone like me,' but my aunt was reaped, when she was about my age. The same year as Katniss's mentor, Haymitch Abernathy."

"Well, judging that you weren't born yet, I'm sure that was very hard for you." Gale dismissed her attempts at reconciliation and went back to staring at the static on the TV.

Madge had thought that maybe if he understood that her family had lost someone too, he would let up, but it didn't seem likely now. She took another long sip of her coffee, trying to calm down. They sat in silence for what seemed like a long time, but when Madge glanced at the window, the unrelenting blackness of night seemed unending. It wouldn't be dawn for a while yet.

"She meant it, you know." Gale said.

"Who meant- you mean Katniss?" Who else would he be talking about.

"That stuff about- not wanting to come back without him. That kiss on his forehead." Gale couldn't bring himself to say Peeta's name, but he didn't have to. The way he bit the word "him" would make you think it caused him physical pain to say it. "I know her. I can tell. She meant it."

"Gale, he saved her life." Madge pointed out. "She doesn't want him to die, but that doesn't mean-"

"Doesn't matter." Gale stopped her. "I'm her cousin, remember? I'm not supposed to give a damn about what she thinks about Pe- about him."

This was as close as they'd come to honest conversation, and Madge felt awful. She had no idea what to say. Not that she had never noticed that Gale carried a bit of a torch for the, now appropriately called "girl on fire," but Madge had always assumed that the love was either brotherly, or returned.

"I- went on a date with Peeta once." Madge had nothing better to say, so why not? Maybe they could keep talking, even if wasn't helping his problem.

"I care why?" Gale's walls shot right back up.

"Uh- it, was awkward. I talked about playing piano mostly, and he talked about- well, bread and working the bakery. Frosting cookies and that type of thing. Then we somehow got on the subject of Katniss." Madge took a steadying breath, trying to find the right words to reassure him. "Gale, he's going to protect her."

"In that state?" Gale said wryly.

"In any state."

"I wish I were there with her."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"What good would it do?" Madge demanded, standing, and sloshing the rest of her coffee down her robe. "They only changed the rule about having two victors because of their star crossed romance and you know it. The only thing you would do in there is get yourself killed."

"I would die for her."

"And she would never forgive you for it." Madge frustratedly pulled off her robe and tossed it to the floor. "That's just how she is. It's the same reason that she won't let Peeta die for her."

"How do you know that?"

"I- I just do." admitted Madge weakly.

"You're probably right." Gale actually smiled a bit, if sadly. He took another sip of his coffee.

"Does she- know, I mean; Have you ever told her about how you feel?"

Gale took another sip of his coffee, then, "Why did you go on a date with- bread boy anyway? Katniss always said you weren't the social type."

Madge took the deflection as a no, but was so happy that they were talking that she didn't push it. "My dad set it up, as a favor to Peeta's mother or something, I never heard the exact details."

"Ah, a business transaction."

"Something like that."

Madge and Gale sat in rapidly growing silence. "No, no, no, say something," Madge thought, not wanting conversation to die.

"I-" she coughed, "I was one of Katniss's sponsors. I sold some of my jewelry to put in with Greasy Sae's fund."

"Me too."

"What did you have to sell? I imagine you couldn't spare any food." She tried hard to sound aloof, but her voice came out concerned. Damn it.

"No uh, a suit jacket - my father's - had these... cuff links. I was told they were valuable by someone, your father maybe, when I wore it to the ceremony for my father, and... Katniss's... after the mine explosion. I took them off and sold them."

"You're a good friend."

"So- are you."

Silence again, but more comfortable. Madge looked into the soft static glow of the screen. She vaguely realized that she was smiling. "No." her thoughts were so loud that she was afraid for a moment that she had said, "No" out loud. Her heart was pounding so hard that she spared a quick glace at Gale to see if he could hear it, but he had returned to his own little world.

Madge placed her hand against her breast, attempting to will her heart to slow. "He's sitting here, telling you how much he loves Katniss. What are you thinking?" Then of course, she realized that she wasn't thinking, she was feeling.

She realized that Gale was right. Katniss, in the arena, she spent a lot of time thinking, and when she told Peeta that she couldn't stand the thought about living without him, she wasn't thinking it at all, she was feeling it. In that moment, Madge understood what Gale probably also knew: even if Katniss makes it home, she will never come back to him in the way that he wants. It's too late for that.

Finally, breaking their newfound and familiar silence, the feast began. They watched wordlessly. Katniss was nowhere to be seen, as the sun glittered off the golden cornucopia. In a flash, the red-headed girl from district five jumped from the horn, took her pack and flitted into the woods. Gale made a derisive noise. Then, hell broke loose. Madge had to remind herself to blink and breathe as she watched the incredible showdown between Clove and Katniss. Madge could hear Gale's teeth grinding in frustration as Clove toyed her knife around Katniss' face. Then, a crash, and Thresh's giant, dark form appeared, Godlike, on the screen. Clove's tribute picture flashed at the bottom of the screen, along with her time of death as Katniss and Thresh made some sort of peace. Then, as quickly as it started, Katniss had her tiny pack of medicine, and she was gone. The feast continued, of course, but Madge and Gale were done watching.

Madge slowly turned to look at Gale, unsure of what to say. Gale, slightly more present than before, felt her eyes on him, and looked at her. She knew she that she was making the most pitiful face, but couldn't make it go away. Gale's face was empty.

"Feeling sorry for me?"

"I-" Madge was speechless. She reached across to touch Gale's hand, before she even thought about whether it was the right thing to do in that moment or not. He flinched, but did not withdraw his hand.

"Don't," he pleaded.

"You were right."

"I know."

Their eyes were locked, his grey eyes, so sad she could feel her heart breaking. He dropped her gaze.

"Nice dress."

"Don't tease, Gale." Madge said breathlessly, feeling a tickle somewhere in her insides at his slight smirk, no matter how contemptuous it was.

"How much did that cost you?"

"Gale, don't-"

He pulled his hand away and stood up.

"Enough to sponsor Katniss? Enough to send her more? Something for her instead of medicine for _him_? Let's go through your fucking closet, and count the things we could buy Katniss with your fucking clothes!" He was pacing.

"Gale!" Madge stood as well.

"Your house, your jewelry, the drugs that keep your mom in la-la land-"

"GALE!" Madge was taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor.

"Let's see if we can't save Katniss huh? If you're such a good friend, I bet you wish you could take her place, so what's giving up everything if it can bring her back, right?"

"Even if I give up everything, it won't bring her back, only she can do that now or-"

Gale was across the room in about half a second. With one hand, he grabbed Madge's face so hard that she stopped short. He pulled her face so close to his she could see the individual stands of his dark eyelashes. "Or... what?"

"Nothing." Madge whispered, taking the hand that was on her face and attempting to pull it away. She couldn't, of course.

"Or. What?" Gale was unblinking. He pulled her in even closer, until the tips of their noses touched.

"Or Peeta can." Madge looked away and Gale dropped her to the floor, suddenly exhausted.

"I would give anything... But, because he's there-" Gale dropped to his knees, hopeless.

"Gale, what- what can I do?" Madge asked helplessly. She could feel tears in her eyes. She was just so damn tired. "How can I help?"

They were so pathetic, crumpled in piles on the floor, blaming each other for Katniss's fate just to stay sane; just to have something to convince themselves that it wasn't their own fault.

"I want you to be her." Gale said.

Madge felt a stabbing pain in her chest, mixed with a churning in her stomach. Did he mean that he wished Katniss were the one here with him now, in this pink dress? Did he mean that he wished Madge were in the arena? She knew either way, that there was nothing she could do.

"I can't be."

"Then help me forget." Gale whispered.

"What?"

"Help me... forget. Just for a little while." Gale begged, desperately. "Just, help me forget that she's out there, cold, alone, in danger, and in love... with- him."

There was a long, painful pause. Thoughts flew through Madge's head, the pounding in her heart got louder. Suddenly, it felt stifling in the sitting room. She looked down at the hem of her silken dress. Somehow, she thought of Katniss, and the horrible gash on her face, racing back to Peeta to deliver the medicine.

She leaned into him, carefully, from her spot on the floor. The television showed old footage from the reapings and the sun had finally started to peek out from behind the heavy velvet curtains. He looked at her with empty eyes, and as suddenly as before, grabbed her face and pressed a harsh, punishing kiss to her lips. Their balance was precarious, kneeling on the floor and leaning into one another, held up only by the pressure between their lips.

She felt his coarse hands in her hair, as he lifted his other hand from the floor and toppled onto her. As they broke from the kiss, they stared at one another sharply. Something seemed to have been decided. It was nothing loving, nothing gentle, but it was certainly distracting. Gale might have expected her to simply lay there; let him distract himself, but Madge seemed to be determined to contribute. She ran her hands over his chest and he let out a guttural noise against her throat, placing a bite-kiss there. He kissed all the way down to the first pearly little button on her dress.

Then, without warning, he ripped the little button off with his teeth and spat it across the room. He gave her a challenging, devilish look as he took hold of both sides of her dress. Madge felt the pressure on the material as he unceremoniously popped off the remainder of the buttons and they bounced through the room and nestled into the rug. Some of them flew off the rug and on to the hardwood floor, where they noisily skittered into the corners, seemingly scared of Gale's force.

"I wonder how much those buttons cost, hmm?" He said quietly, fiercely. She could feel his ragged breathing and her gaze narrowed. At some point, this was unfair, she decided. It was not her fault. She shrugged out of the ruined dress, left in her white, lacy underclothes. She had always thought she would be shy, coquettish perhaps, when a man saw her this way, but she felt freer, unabashed. Finally, they were doing _something_, not sitting, watching, waiting.

She strained up and bit him hard, where his shirt hung open. He growled and for a moment looked ready to strike at her. Madge suddenly understood what it might be like to be an animal in the forest caught in one of Gale's traps.

The television changed, and suddenly, the announcer was narrating, _Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen have never been luckier to know one another_. A montage of kisses, gentle wound-mending and meaningful looks lit up the sitting room.

Gale leaned down and covered Madge's mouth with his own again, more determined than ever for a distraction. His hands strayed around her side, pulling her up against him. Madge could feel his desperation, and kissed him back just as harshly. With a strangely practiced flick only possible from years of setting snares and tying game, he unhooked her brassiere and leaned down into her soft, rounded chest, biting and licking and kissing as though she might disappear if he did this too slowly. Madge didn't want to think about Katniss, but she could see her on the screen, laying next to Peeta in a similar fashion. _Then I'll just have to fill in the blanks myself_she heard Peeta say. Gale cannot see what is happening on the screen, Madge realized as canned music filled the room and she watched Peeta and Katniss share a passionate kiss. Madge moaned and buried her hands in Gale's dark, thick hair, pulling only enough to let him know she's serious. They kissed again, and Madge made quick work of Gale's shirt, pointedly undoing each button without ruining the fabric.

They were flat against one another, kissing desperately, he harshly squeezed and massaged one of her breasts and she bit his lower lip. She ground her hips against him and felt him, big and hard, against her thigh. Then and Katniss's voice came from the television, _You don't have much competition anywhere._At this, Gale seemed to try to lose himself in kissing her, pressing against her leg.

Madge reached up and undid the tie on his loose pants. He gratefully stood and pulled them off, staring at her. Madge, flushed, naked spare her white underwear, propped up on her elbows, her large eyes flashed and dared him to continue. Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders in waves, glowing with the lonely ray of light that came in through the drapes.

"Well, princess, what are we going to do now?" He said, taking in the sight of her despite himself.

She smiled back sadly, "Distract ourselves." She moved so she was kneeling in front him, and looped his underclothes with her thumbs. "Forget." She said quietly. Then, she pulled down on the cloth, and he was completely naked. Her eyes widened, the reality of Gale's sex before her. The noises on the television had changed and now an announcer droned on about Cato, now without his fellow District 2 Tribute to face the Games and the wilderness alone. Katniss was out there, fighting for her life, if she could do that, certainly Madge could do this, she thought. She wrapped her fingers around him and licked from the base to the end. He gave a strangled moan. She darted her tongue out again, then closed her mouth around him.

He buried his hands in her hair. For a long moment, Gale was nowhere. The room was silent save for the narrator from the television and the quiet groans coming from the back of Gale's throat. Madge thought about Gale's contempt for her family, and dragged her teeth along the length of him. Gale only groaned in response, sappy music returned on the TV and from the corner of her eye, Madge could see more of the same images of Katniss and Peeta kissing, the canned music returned and Gale snapped to attention.

Gale gave her a sudden shove and he dislodged from her mouth with a startling pop. She fell to the ground. In an instant, he was on top of her, pressing against her flimsy underwear. They kissed, gentler this time, and he put his hands on the last clothing between them.

"Please," he said quietly.

Then, the TV changed. _Coming in live, _the announcer boomed, _having given Peeta Mellark the life-saving injection, Katniss Everdeen has fallen unconscious! Only morning will tell if she survives the day! _Everything stopped cold. At once, what they were doing seemed wrong. and they both stared at the monitor, carefully not touching. The reality of the Games crashed into them with incredible force.

Nearly naked, they stared blankly at the television as they saw Katniss laying in a pool of blood in the cave.

Gale stood, yanked his underwear up and hurriedly put on his pants and tossed his shirt on, fumbling for his buttons and left without a word, leaving Madge topless, flushed, and confused.

She picked up a lonely button and stared at it wonderingly. How much did a pearly little button cost?


	2. The Victory Tour

**CHAPTER 2: The Victory Tour**

Claustrophobic. That's how it felt being back in Madge's house.

It was ridiculous, of course. Gale now spent half of his life underground, and even without that, his house which he shared with 4 other people was much smaller than this mansion.

Still, it felt so small. Stifling even.

He and Madge had never talked about what had happened, of course. Maybe that's why... He had thought that she may seek him out, hunt him down even. He had been told that women liked to talk too much by some of his friends - hell, some of them complained about it, but Madge had remained silent, even on the occasion that they had bumped into each other. He almost wished she had said something about it. Anything really.

Because now, like it or not, he was here, in her house; hanging decorations for the Harvest Festival, the dinner party in District 12 to end Katniss's Victory tour with him. With Peeta Mellark, and in a week, he would have to be eating dinner with them, playing the role of Katniss's cousin, thrilled by the success of the tour, and her budding romance.

Even worse was that _everyone_was there helping out, so alone-time was not an option. Katniss's mother and her younger sister Prim, Madge and her father - her mother was nowhere to be seen - and his own mother Hazelle and his younger siblings, Vick, Rory, and Posy, who had been unceremoniously defined as Katniss's cousins during the 74th Hunger Games, were all at Madge's house anytime they weren't somewhere else, decorating and rehearsing.

Those damn Games had taken everything from him. Being forced to help orchestrate this celebration was almost too much to bare.

His thoughts were interrupted by a fizzle of static, then, some Capitol idiot's voice informing Panem that, _Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen, the Star Crossed Lovers from District 12, seem to finally be enjoying some well-deserved fairytale romance._Gale paused in his work to turn to the Television that had been set up in the main dining room so that the Mayor could fret over how his District would look in comparison to the others on the tour. This also meant that everyone working to ready the room was forced to agonize over every romantic detail the Capitol felt the need to broadcast - maybe it wasn't agony for everyone, but it certainly was for him.

_The pair were spotted early this morning District 4 watching the sunrise from one of its majestic beaches. Katniss's designer, Cinna has her in a flirty, flowing sun dress, with-_ Gale's ears blocked the rest of the narrator's nonsense. His chest tightened as he observed, along with the entire nation of Panem,_ his_Katniss wetting her toes in the vibrant blue water, the dawn light playing across her features and through her windblown hair; she was so god damned beautiful.

He watched her radiant smile, her laugh, and the stupid dress that the narrator had been droning on about blustering to dangerous heights around her thighs. It was getting hard to breathe.

Dammit, her eyes. Her grey eyes tricked blue by the ocean waters stared straight into his, into Peeta's. Dammit. Peeta leaned in and whispers something inaudible even to the Capitol's technology. His bare arms pulled Katniss into an embrace, and Gale's chest tightened with so much pressure he was convinced his ribs might crack. As he watched their lips brush gently, the rushing in his ears subsided, so he could just make out, _Rumors have been flying that these two have some big plans to become engaged on the tour so that Katniss's mother can't interfere. However, the pair, along with their escort, Miss Effie Trinket, and their mentor, Mr. Haymitch Abernathy, have been vague at best in regards to confirming or denying this rumor._

The ridiculous-looking, grating woman named "Effie Trinket" who Katniss had insisted "wasn't that bad" popped up onto the screen, breaking Gale from his trance. He turned back to his work, hammering a nail to secure a banner that read, "District 12" above the table where the dinner was to be held. Effie's voice could be heard, explaining through an eerie smile, "_All I can say is, those two cannot stay away from each other. It has been simply dreadful trying to keep them on schedule. They keep sneaking off to be alone together, and-"_

Silence.

Gale snapped his head in the direction of the TV, surprised to see Madge fiddling with the controls. She glanced in his direction, then smiled slightly.

"Sorry. I'm having a hard time concentrating." She moved back to the table where she had been- well, Gale wasn't sure what she had been doing. His face must have shown it, since she offered, "I'm writing place cards, for the dinner. We only have about a week left until they're back, and since most of that people will be working and in school, I can't afford to keep rewriting them over and over until I get it right."

"What's to get right?"

"Oh you know, spelling, handwriting, placement on the card," she cooed, hands coaxing small, graceful letters out of an expensive looking pen. "Stupid stuff." She followed up, and looked up at Gale. Her eyes were careful, and after a moment, they fell back down to the elegant off-white cards she was writing names on.

Suddenly, he became aware that they were the only two in the room, and it started to feel like a very, very small space.

He found himself captivated by her presence, for the first time. Who was this girl, this quiet girl, who accused him of nothing, even though he had behaved so mercilessly towards her? He followed her hands, with their long fingers working tirelessly on a task that seemed so meaningless. Despite himself, his eyes moved to her blonde hair, falling in a mess of curls over one shoulder.

He was surprised how careless it looked. He had always assumed that girls like Madge spent time and effort on their appearance.

Gale took her in, fully, for the first time since he had seen her in almost nothing. Her delicate neck and collarbones, the curve of her breast peaking over the top of her white dress. Her ankles crossed almost casually, toes curling and uncurling without her notice.

His eyes moved back to her face. He traced the contours of her jaw and cheekbones. His eyes fell upon her pink lips, and he could remember the way that they tasted, how they felt; soft, and unsuspecting.

Dammit, no. This was not what he wanted. _She_was not what he wanted. She was not Katniss.

"Are you staying for dinner?" Madge's lips suddenly said. He snapped his eyes up to meet hers, but looked back to what he was doing after just a second. Why didn't he want to look at her?

"No."

"Your mother and the kids were going to. Tonight, Posy is going to pick out one of my old dresses for the party next week and-"

"Look." Gale began, but he wasn't sure what he had been attempting to lead up to. He didn't want to hear about her feeding his family, or being nice to his sister, even though the thought of Posy getting to wear an expensive dress like she saw in the shop windows in the town square did make him smile a bit, despite himself.

Luckily, the smile was not in Madge's direction, so hiss gruff voice would cover up any hint of excitement he had regarding the idea. "I'm- I've got to check the traps and try to get some hunting done for the week. Without Katniss here to check them it has been..." He trailed off.

"It's okay." Madge said, too quickly. "You can go, I'll- I can finish up."

It was awkward, but it felt like a resolution, so Gale turned to her and nodded. Silently, he made his way down the ladder, but when he turned back away from the ladder, the proximity between them was startling. She was standing strong just a step or so in front of him.

Her icy blue eyes locked with his, and she took a step to close the space between them. She smelled vaguely like wild flowers, just as he had remembered. As her scent overtook him, he actually staggered back a step, bumping into the ladder slightly.

This girl. He and this girl had- been so close. Her could envision her, naked, beautiful standing before him. He had almost- they had almost-

Her eyes were bearing into him. Saying what her lips could not.

Without a word, and without breaking eye contact, she put her hand out in front of her, palm open for the hammer he was holding. He placed the hammer carefully in her hand, and licked his lips. His mouth felt dry, empty.

"Madge-," He tried.

"Forget about it." Apparently, her lips could say it after all. She remembered, and despite her words, her tone said that she would make sure that he did too.


	3. Playing Pretend

**CHAPTER 3: Playing Pretend**

Peeta jogged behind Katniss, and despite his clipped pace, he found himself falling behind her swift footfalls. How could she move so quickly in those shoes? Not two hours ago she had been complaining that they were "a new and cruel form of torture devised by the Capitol."

Her lean calves flexed as she took long, sure-footed strides, barrelling toward her compartment as if their lives depended on it. Out of habit, Peeta cast a glace over his shoulder, but, unsurprisingly, no one was tailing them.

"Could-" he huffed. "Could you slow down? Katniss- my..." He tripped a bit, rather conveniently. "My leg..."

This was all he had to say, and Katniss stopped short, turning to look at him, her back pressed instinctively against the wall of the train's narrow, dimly-lit hallway. Peeta nearly ran into her, but was able to side-step and end up with his back pressed against the opposite wall of the hallway.

Peeta could feel his cheeks burning a bit. During the Games, Peeta had felt embarrassed about his clumsiness in relation to Katniss's physical prowess, and that was before his artificial leg. He wished he could be more... more.. what? Like him? Like Gale?

He was part of the reason his engagement to Katniss was just a show, and not for real. Gale, her hunting partner, for whom she felt the utmost respect, companionship, and what else? Love?

The events of the evening suddenly hit Peeta a bit hard, as he looked into Katniss's face and realized that they were engaged to be married - that they would be married. He could feel a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with his shortness of breath.

Katniss's keen, grey eyes were studying his, trying to see into the boy to whom she was now promised. Though she herself had suggested the engagement, Peeta knew that she resented it. His eyes dropped to her shoes.

They were pink. For some reason, whenever the Capitol was feeling wary towards Katniss, Cinna dressed her in pink - not that Peeta minded. He didn't care what she wore; in a burlap sack she would still be the same Katniss to him. He supposed Cinna chose pink to draw attention to the fact that she was just a girl from District 12, and he, just a boy, and they, just in love - but they weren't.

Peeta swallowed hard. The weight in his chest seemed to be settling, so he dared to raise his eyes to meet hers. On the way, he couldn't help but appreciate her, pink high-heeled shoes peeking out from under the flowing layers of her ruffled rose colored gown, which was gathered in a ribbon at her waist. Small sleeves capped her shoulders like tiny wings, and a single strand of pearls elegantly looped her neck. She had made fast work ripping her hair out of the up-do that her prep team had wrestled it into once they made it back to the train; so her dark hair fell in protesting tangles around her shoulders and down her back.

Peeta smiled as his eyes reached her face - her usual hardened look was softened by her puzzled expression, and all of the girlish make up didn't help her to make her look anymore like herself. He realized that she was still studying him, waiting for an explanation as to why he had halted her progress towards her room.

"Just, don't be in such a rush, okay?" Peeta said, trying to keep his voice soft. "Even-" he faltered, then found his voice again. "Even, if it isn't real, you and I got engaged tonight, and I want to remember everything I can about it."

Without a word, her face snapped back to its previous hardened determination, and she turned on her heel away from him to resume her previous pace. This was a bit silly, since she was only a few of her lengthy strides from her door. When she got to it, she stopped.

Peeta wasn't sure what he had expected. Of course she didn't know what to say to him when he sprung something like that on her. "I'm sorry." His voice came too quickly. "I know you don't- that- it's not the same for you."

"Are you coming?" She barked. Then, after a moment, "You don't have to. I would-" she sighed heavily, and took a moment to collect her thoughts. "I would understand if you wanted to be alone."

"Do you want to be alone tonight, Katniss?" Peeta asked her, holding his breath. He wanted to stay with her so badly, even just for one more night.

"I don't know."

She didn't move, but she didn't look at him either.

He knew when they got back, that everything would change again. No more kisses, no more sleepovers, and no more... playing pretend. He had become so accustomed to playing pretend - ever since the arena.

Pretending to be a career, pretending to be in love, pretending it never happened, and now, pretending to be more in love than ever, but... this getting engaged. It wasn't for pretend. It was real. They would be married.

He and Katniss would be married; Katniss would be his wife. It was the feelings behind it that were pretend. Katniss was pretending to love him for the world, and he, Peeta, was pretending not to love her so much that it hurt sometimes for... for who? For her, he supposed. Maybe for himself, but not tonight. This was not what he wanted tonight.

"I don't want to play pretend anymore."

"Is that what we're doing in my bed at night?" Katniss folded her arms across her chest, protectively. "Playing pretend?"

"Yes." Peeta pushed himself off of the wall, and moved towards her door. "You're pretending that you're you're not ashamed to think of what Gale and your family would say if knew that you and I were sharing a bed." He wasn't saying it to be hurtful, merely because it was true. Katniss seemed to understand this, as she shrugged ascent for him to continue. "And I'm pretending it won't break my heart just as badly the second time we return to District 12 together."

His eyes met hers, and he wished he could take back his words, true or not. Katniss's eyes were shining with tears, though her voice remained steady when she said, "Fine, no pretending. I can't stand to imagine what Gale would think; how he would react to- this. To us."

She turned to open her door, and as she turned the knob, she finished with, "And I won't pretend that I don't want you in my bed tonight, even though I know it will break your heart." She pushed the door open and entered in a fluid motion, leaving the door open behind her.

Peeta stayed back a moment to think. Waking up the next morning was going to hurt, but less, if he didn't wake up alone.

He followed her in, and gently closed the door.

Peeta was surprised to hear running water, and peered around the dark compartment to find the source. A sliver of light cast a trail to the bathroom door, which was slightly ajar. Katniss's dress and shoes lay in an unceremonious pile in front of the door.

"K- Katniss?"

Peeta was confused. Had she not expected him to come in after all?

"I'm in here." She called. "It's okay. I'm not... naked." She fumbled the word.

Peeta entered cautiously anyway, unsure quite what to expect. Katniss was perched on the edge of the bathtub in a pale pink silky slip, her legs submerged mid-calf in bubbly bathwater. She didn't smile when she saw him, but she scooted over a bit, making room on the bathtub edge for him.

He sat, facing away from the water at first, and untied his dress shoes. He placed them aside in a neat pair, then removed his socks. He folded them and laid them across his shoes, then rolled up his pant legs to his knees.

He stood and turned, removing his suit jacket and folding it over his arm. He set the folded jacket carefully on top of the pile of his shoes, then began loosening his tie when he noticed Katniss looking at him, and now, she was smiling.

"What?" Peeta asked, rolling up his sleeves, and finally stepping into the bathwater. It was hot, and obviously had some special Capitol mineral in it, because his tired feet instantly felt tingly and a bit numbed. As he sat down next to her on the edge of the tub, Katniss glanced from him to his neat pile of footwear, to her pile of garb sitting just outside the door, then finally back at him as if to explain her amusement.

After the tub had filled another inch or so, Katniss used her toes to turn knobs of the faucet until the water stopped flowing, and leaned her head on Peeta's shoulder. They sat with their hands in their laps, and watched as one by one, the bubbles in the bath popped, and they started to see bits and pieces of their feet.

It occurred to Peeta suddenly how young they must look, how vulnerable. If only President Snow could see them now. Surely, he would know that he had nothing to fear from two kids, so tongue tied by their pasts that their present had trapped them, unsure of how to proceed.

Peeta spotted a white washcloth draped across the faucet of the tub. Wordlessly, he picked it up, dipped it into the bathwater, which was quickly growing tepid, and turned to face Katniss.

"Here." He offered the cloth towards her face. She made no motion to take it from him, but rather closed her eyes, and remained still.

Carefully, Peeta used a corner of the washcloth to wipe the make up from Katniss's face, revealing all of the features deemed "imperfect" by the Capitol. The few freckles that decorated her just slightly crooked nose, the dimple she had on only her right cheek, and even the almost indiscernible scar on the left side of her forehead where Clove had cut her in the Games - when she had been retrieving medicine for him. When most of her make-up had been removed, he leaned in and kissed that very spot.

"I love you."

Well, there it was. No more pretending.

Katniss said nothing, just stared at him sadly. After a moment, she raised a hand to his cheek, and he turned into the soft touch, kissing her palm.

"Peeta, you know I-"

Her hand dropped from his face, as did her gaze. He caught her chin and brought her eyes back to look into his.

"I don't need you pretend to love me back."

"I wish I didn't have to." She admitted. "Pretend, not love you."

"Then don't." Peeta rose from the ledge of the tub and offered her his hand.

"Peeta, you know it's not that simple." Katniss took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet.

Peeta smiled, and spoke, genuinely. "Of course it's not."

He turned away from her and moved out of the bathroom to the bed without saying anything else. He removed his pants, vest, shirt, and undershirt. All of these he folded and placed in a neat pile on a chair by her bedside, just like every night - but this wasn't just like every other night.

"Tonight, can't you just be my bride-to-be, Katniss?"

He couldn't look at her, too afraid that she would be hurt, or angry. Instead, he inspected the fraying hem of his undershorts.

"Okay."

Her voice came softly, like the coo of a Mockingjay.

Peeta dared to raise his head, only to find that she was standing directly in front of him, still in her pink slip. Her figure could not be hidden by the flimsy cloth, and Peeta blushed, in spite of himself.

Katniss took his hand, and seated herself next to him on the bed.

"Tonight, let's be engaged."

For a long moment, there was only the soft sounds of the train's engine, distant, moving them towards their home District, 12.

Then her tone indiscernible, she said, "Let's be married... so that... it will always be real to us; so that, no matter what ridiculous dance we have to do for the Capitol, we will always know where we stand, you and I."

"Husband and wife?" Peeta nearly choked on the words.

"Allies." Katniss said, eyes fixed straight ahead. "Now and forever. You and me."

Peeta's heart sank, allies was not exactly a romantic definition for the bond between them, but he knew that she was right. Their Capitol marriage would never be real to them, nor to anyone in District 12, especially not with Katniss's past with Gale, of that he was damn sure. If it was ever going to be real to anyone, even if it was just them, it had to be now.

"Okay." Peeta answered, the same hollow tone in his voice as hers. "I'd like that."

Neither of them moved.

"I can- build the fire." Katniss rose, and Peeta caught her hand. He wanted to say something, but words seemed so, inadequate for what he was feeling. Sadness, joy, powerlessness, longing. Too many feelings for even the eloquent Peeta Mellark to express in just words.

"I had always hoped... that I would bake the bread for our Wedding Toast," was all that ended up coming out. It seemed to do alright at expressing all the hopes and dreams that they were preparing to let go of in the next hour or so.

"I didn't want to wear pink." she offered, a sad smile showing off her single dimple.

"You don't have to."

Peeta crossed to his pile and pulled out his white tuxedo shirt. He returned to Katniss and placed it in her hands.

"It's white, and it's probably big enough to be a dress on you."

"But... what will you wear?" She was fighting a smile, which made Peeta realize that he was grinning like an idiot.

"We can trade." He glanced down at the skimpy slip on Katniss's body that would never fit him in a million years. When he looked back up, she was laughing, but she was crying too. He opened his arms, and she hugged him, tightly, but for just a moment. She pushed away, and began unbutton the dress shirt.

"Call a Capitol attendant for some bread, will you?"

"Katniss-" Peeta felt guilty, for her tears.

"Just- do it."

She looked into his eyes, and he knew that she meant it, tears and all. This was not for pretend.

She built a fire in the compartment's tiny fireplace, and a Capitol attendant brought them a small loaf of bread - a roll really.

The sat by their fire, her in his white shirt and him in just his undershorts, and together, they toasted their bread with forks - This required them to keep switching hands, because of their close proximity to the flames.

When the bread seemed to be toasted, even blacked in a few spots, they sat opposite each other and fed the other bits of the toast until the entire roll was gone, despite neither of them being even the slightest bit hungry.

After that, they watched the fire, and occasionally watched each other; but neither of them said a word. Maybe they should have, but they didn't. As the coals began to die, Katniss curled up on the hearth, and lay her head in Peeta's lap. He stroked her hair absent-mindedly until her breathing slowed, and it became obvious that she was asleep.

Peeta used a fork to stir the last of the coals out, and picked Katniss up to carry her to bed. As he lay her down and tucked her in, he glanced out the window and took notice of the white flakes in the air. He had almost forgotten that it was still winter in 12.

He took his place beside Katniss in the bed and, as he wrapped his arms around her for what might be the last time until they wed in the Capitol, he realized that returning to life in District 12 after becoming Katniss's husband might feel more like playing pretend than ever.


	4. Ataraxia

**CHAPTER 4: Ataraxia**

_Ataraxia. _It's a fancy word. It doesn't fit well in his mouth. Gale couldn't remember a lot from school, but what he could remember comes from the week his class spent learning about philosophy. Philosophy class didn't last long, of course, with concepts like freedom and hedonism floating around. But he didn't forget that strange word.

It was winter. All around District 12, snow filled the streets and seemed to glow in the streetlamps. _Ataraxia. _He thought again. He was moving quickly. He noticed his face felt wet and immediately glanced upward to take note of the clouds. But when he looked up, there was nothing but bright, swirling stars. He realized then that he was crying.

He hated working in the mines. He hated that Rory had tessarae. He hated the fence. He hated the Capitol. He really, really hated the Capitol. In a way, he hated Katniss. He hated the look of delight on her face earlier this evening, when Peeta got down on one knee and asked her to marry him. He hated Peeta. He hated both of them for being Snow's pawns and going through with this.

His boots kept hitting the ground hard, tears kept falling from his face. He walked from the Seam into the Square. Before, he had hated the Mayor. He had hated Madge, with her blonde hair, she looked nothing like the kids from the Seam; he, Katniss, their siblings, all olive-skinned, dark-haired, intense.

Madge, he remembered, was light, pale and golden. Blondeness and paleness did not suit Seam children, whose lives were destined to be spent deep in the dark of the mines. Auburn, black and russet were the only appropriate hair colors for mining children. The birth of a blond child to Seam parents was always an upset. Golden, flaxen, platinum hair on children was only a reminder that it they would grow up, that after their first day in the mines, their hair would never, ever be the same. In that moment, it was confusing. The hatred he had for her and her family was still seated deep inside him, but there were other feelings there as well.

Believing that Madge's family lived in the lap of luxury seemed strange now, having heard and seen some of the realities from the Capitol. _Ataraxia_ certainly did not describe Madge's family. They had worries, too. Before, it seemed Madge's family had more in common with the Capitol. Now, it seemed, they were just members of the group, held down, scrutinized, watched, like the rest of them.

It was cold. He felt an incredible fury. He could remember only one time he felt differently in the past year, where he felt that feeling they had discussed in philosophy class so long ago.

_Ataraxia:_ tranquility, freedom from worry, clarity; a holy, sacred feeling of safety, emptiness and fullness. Something he never felt in the woods for fear of being caught, something he never felt with Katniss, feeling so full of uncertainty. Something he never felt with his family, the weight of their survival squarely on his shoulders.

When they discussed it in philosophy he didn't believe it existed. Life in twelve was so full of hunger, limitations and pain, he had scoffed at the strange, ancient word.

But there it had been, in that brief moment in Madge's sitting room, when he felt everything disappear and felt only her on him. Only her golden hair in his hands. Only her hands on his hips. Only her mouth on _him._ Nothingness, clarity, lightness; _Ataraxia._

And it was that feeling that he was seeking so desperately as he stumbled through the night. It would never, it could never come from Katniss now. It was that feeling that prompted him to knock heavily on the big, oak door of her house.

In moments, she was there. Golden, glowing, as he had imagined her. Her sky-blue eyes sharp with concern. She let him in without a word.

Her house was silent.

"Your dad?" He asked, his voice came out strange and quiet.

"Gone, meeting with the Peacekeepers," she replied easily. He followed her up the stairs. He realized he had never been up the stairs. "Mother is gone on morphling holiday," she supplied.

He felt, for perhaps the first time in his life, like a pervert, as he watched her smooth, almost pearly calves above him on the stairs. He noticed she was barefoot. She opened a door and ushered him through.

It was her bedroom, and it was surprisingly sparse. It was nice, certainly, but the bedspread was plain, dark brown, and the rest of the room seemed to be the same; forest colors.

Madge closed the door, and stared at him. Gale realized what he must look like, what this must look like and found himself sputtering.

"I just- I was coming to-"

"Gale," she said solidly "You don't have to have a reason to come over. You can just come over. We're friends."

Friends seemed like a strange word, in that moment. Perhaps it was because relationships seemed so strange lately. Gale wasn't sure who he was in relation to anyone right at the moment. "Friends," He repeated emptily.

Madge stared at him, still, the same steady blue stare. She looked strange in the moonlight, her hair glowed, her eyes reflected the blue of her nightdress. She was luminous and feminine and somehow very strange, staring at him. He was beginning to feel anxious, which was a very unusual feeling for him.

"This thing with Katniss and Peeta shook you up."

He nodded.

"And it's been a long time since it was all in your face like this."

He nodded again.

"And," she continued quietly, taking slow steps toward him, her voice dropping with every word, "you want to forget."

It sounded so awful coming from her. It sounded disgusting. And, it wasn't quite true, but he didn't know how to explain that to her.

"I wanted to see you," he mumbled lamely.

Madge looked surprised, and sat on her bed. The clock ticked on the wall. It was a bird-clock, soon, he guessed, the hour would change and a little wooden bird would chirp the time. It was the only opulent thing in the room. Reminded that he was wearing a lot of wet clothing, and that he was likely getting mud and snow on her carpet, Gale silently began removing his boots.

Madge stood up. "Let me help you." She took his boots and placed them upside-down on the heater. He stood stock-still, watching her. She turned back to him, silhouetted by the moon through the window. Again, he felt he should avert his eyes, but didn't. Her nightdress was made of some thin material, and in the light from the window, he could see the outline of her body with incredible clarity. He was entranced for a moment, and startled when she began unbuttoning his coat.

Though he had just been outside, Gale felt relieved to have his heavy jacket off. Madge folded the jacket carefully and set it near the door. Then, she put her hands on the first button of his shirt.

Madge saw his steely eyes widen, but kept her hand on that first button. She tilted her head, in question. She seemed to say _this was what you wanted, wasn't it?_ He gave her an almost imperceptible nod, and with that, she gave him a smirk and tore the button off. Rather than throwing it, she tucked it safely in his front pocket, and patted his chest. Then, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

This was certainly not _ataraxia_, but it was different. Generally, someone ripping a button from his clothing might have made him angry. His mother did not need any more sewing to do. But this meant something else.

He reached down and put his hands on the curve of her waist, and pulled her close to him. Her mouth was exactly as he remembered it. She smelled like wildflowers. She inched closer and he felt one of her feet on top of his. Effortlessly, he slid his hands down to her thighs, and pulled her up onto him, so that her legs were wrapped securely around him.

These kisses were very different than the ones they shared almost a year ago. A year ago, their kisses were flaming, harsh. Sometimes they weren't even kisses, but bites that left both of them having to explain away the marks the next day. Being rough and tumble probably made the process easier for him than it had been for her.

He kissed her cheek. He kissed her forehead. He kissed her mouth, her neck, her mouth again. These kisses burned on his lips, smoldered. She felt warm against him, then she pulled back.

"Why," she demanded. It was not a question.

Still holding her flush against him, Gale leaned his forehead into hers.

She spoke again, he could feel her breathing, "I'm not her. I won't be her. I will not pretend this didn't happen afterward, not again."

He knew she was serious. Strangely, in telling him this, she seemed more like Katniss than ever, in her woodsy room. It was not Katniss he came for.

"I came to see you," he repeated.

This was enough of an answer for Madge, fully believing him the second time. She kissed his face, and he caught her mouth up in a kiss. It was white-hot, glowing, like her. It was effortless to hold her body off the floor like this, but it didn't feel close enough.

In measured steps, he walked toward the bed and gently deposited her there, kissing her all the while. He ran his hands up her legs, thrilling at their incredible smoothness and caught the hem of her nightdress, which seemed rough in comparison. The last time they had done this, he had ripped her dress off of her, only to barely look at her. The last time, he gave it a passing glance. Tonight, it was different.

Madge lifted her arms above her head as he pulled the nightdress off of her. Then, she was entirely naked. He remembered clearly the perfect, round shape of her breasts, the strange flatness of her stomach, her collarbone, neck and shoulders coming together in devastating perfection. Madge apparently did not wear underclothes to bed. Gale easily recognized the feeling of being confined, but he was not used to this feeling with regard to his own pants. She was breathtakingly beautiful. Tonight, he could see the tiny things that he had missed before.

She had a small mole on her right breast, though he had never seen her wear jewelry, he noticed something sparkly in the middle of her stomach. She was certainly thinner than the last time they were together. Her sex was covered in downy, blonde hair a shade or two darker than the crown of gold on her head. He ached to touch her, but stood still.

The tension in the room was palpable.

As Gale was admiring Madge, she couldn't help look him over as well. She had watched him for years, he was familiar. This, though, the entranced look on his usually dark face, the absolute lack of embarrassment as he stood before her, clearly aroused, making no move to hide himself, the way he seemed to tremble, was incredibly unfamiliar. She knew when she let him in that they would not turn on the television. That they would not make small talk. She wondered if this was what she had wanted when she opened the door.

He leaned down and gently, reverently traced the outline of the mole on her breast. It felt to her as though his hand was on fire. It didn't matter what her intentions were in letting him in. The way he touched her, just now, allowed her to accept that perhaps this was about something between the two of them, not merely a distraction.

She reached up and pressed his hand to her chest, where her heart was beating hard, steadily.

"Take your shirt off, please," she whispered.

He complied, keeping his eyes locked on her as he undid each button. Then, for good measure, he untied his pants and dropped them to the floor, along with his underclothes.

Gale did not glow as she did in the moonlight, he seemed to burn. He was all bronze and obsidian, where she was smooth, he had scars and marks. Though he was fastidiously clean, parts of him still seemed to have collected coal, or perhaps those were shadows.

She took his hand, and pulled him down next to her on the bed. She touched where she had bitten him during their last encounter, it seemed to blend in with the other marks on his skin, but Madge knew that she had put it there.

For awhile, they said nothing and laid quietly with their hands exploring one another thoroughly, as though they might never see one another again. Gale's hand strayed down, and he looked to Madge for permission. She nodded. His deft fingers parted her, she was hot, smooth and incredibly wet. Unfamiliar, he felt around, watching her face carefully. Her eyes had closed, her mouth shut in a quiet hum. Then, he found something, and her eyes flew open, a gasp escaped her throat. He rubbed across the spot again, and wrapped his other arm around her back, holding her tight.

There was no other word for it, Madge _writhed_ under his touch. Her back arched and he was glad her parents were indisposed, as she let out a series of low moans. It was the most incredible sound he'd ever heard. He kissed across her face to her ear. He slid his fingers down and played at her entrance.  
>"Stop," she ordered suddenly. Gale blinked in surprise, yanked from his reverie. She looked at him sheepishly, and then said more quietly, "I just want it to be you, not your hand." She put her hand on him, astounded by the incredible hardness and heat. He could not hold back a growl. He pulled his hand up and held her close as she stroked him, slowly, carefully. He felt a fire in the pit of his stomach.<p>

"Nnnnmmm," he groaned.

Her eyes flashed at him playfully, "patience," she murmured and continued her incredibly deliberate ministrations. Unaccustomed to being patronized, Gale gave her his best glare, but his face quickly loosened as she picked up her pace just slightly.

Again, this was not the feeling he had been searching for. It was not freedom, in fact, it was just the opposite. This was not tranquility, this was need. He hissed as she ran her thumb over the head of him. She removed her hand and he saw her look curiously at the sticky liquid on her thumb. He watched as she pointedly put it in her mouth and sucked it clean. They kissed, their mouths touching gently, sparring with their tongues. He felt her soft, lean body pressed up against him. It seemed like there was no part of them left untouched.

Carefully, he rolled on top of her. He said nothing. She said nothing.

She reached down and positioned him. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as they stared at one another. Her hands smoothed his hair. She watched the muscles in his arms, carefully holding him aloft.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said as he hovered just above her.

"You can't," she said plainly "I broke it horseback riding about a year ago."

That was all the more invitation he needed to enter her, slowly, one inch at a time. By the time he was almost fully inside of her, he had a sheen of sweat from the effort of going slowly. She was so tight, so wet, and so beautiful below him that it took all he had not to thrust into her again and again. Though he had never done this before, and guessed rightly that she hadn't either, he knew this was not a time to go quickly.

Carefully, he pushed the last slow inch in. Gale moaned in frustration. This was still not the feeling he had come here for, it was better. The emptiness he'd felt the last time replaced by an incredible feeling of heat and connection. The heat in the room, the pain from the stupid television, the anger, the fury, slipped away. He was in her, and they were the same, in that moment. Fervently, he kissed her neck, then began to move.

It seemed strange to him, that most other things in the world required quite a bit of practice. How long had it taken him to learn how to walk silently through the woods, to set a snare? This, what they were doing now, seemed to come so naturally. Plunging into her seemed to be what he had been made to do. They rocked together, quiet, her nails raked across his back as he changed his angle and she hissed, like a teapot unable to hold the boiling water any longer.

Then, he was moving faster, she was gripping him tighter. He felt something that was not unfamiliar building in the core of him. The fear of hurting her was never far from his mind, but she didn't look so fragile now, entwined with him, her usually perfect hair strewn about, her usually porcelain-white chest flushed an angry red. Gale trembled, so close to the edge.

"Gale," she whispered in a voice so full of need, he lost all resolve. White lights flashed behind his eyes. He felt an incredible pulsating, white-hot release. He felt her hands, tight on his biceps and he is unsure where the end of him is, exactly.

Suddenly, he became very aware of where he was. He was there, with Madge, curled up, carefully cradling her as they both shuddered through aftershocks, fireworks.

And there it was, he thought sleepily to himself, toying absentmindedly with her hair. Completion, fullness, emptiness, tranquilty, peace, _ataraxia._


	5. More Like You Said

**CHAPTER 5: More Like You Said**

Despite the promise that Madge had made to Gale, that she wouldn't act like it didn't happen, it certainly felt as if it hadn't.

Madge couldn't put her finger on what exactly had changed between them. For a short time, Gale came over after work sometimes to visit her. He would listen to Madge play the piano, or take a shower to rid himself of the coal dust that never seemed to quite come off, or even to share her bed. They didn't have sex again - that seemed to have touched on something a bit too... 'real' for either of them to handle, but they had been companions for each other.

Sometimes they ate dinner together - especially when Madge made sure to cook far too much to eat and then fuss about their ice box being too full for the leftovers. Gale was proud to bring home extra food for his family, even if he hadn't trapped and kill it himself. In a way, he had trapped something - something inside her. He had worked her insides into one of his intricate snares, which he gave a small tug, a tightness she felt every time she heard his boots trudging up to the house.

It was closer than she imagined that anyone would get to Gale, except for Katniss of course, even if their interaction was a secret. So then, what unspoken change had driven them apart? Was it the understanding of the very real danger that Katniss and Peeta were in, and the consequential realization of the selfishness of their actions after the announcement of the Quarter Quell? Or could it have been before that, perhaps stemming from Gale's anger over Madge not warning him about the changing of the guard in the Head Peacekeeper. That wouldn't have been terribly fair; she had not known until after he did.

It was more likely Gale's whipping in the square. That cold and horrific day led Madge to consider Gale's safety as a temporary and fragile balance, rather than a constant. It also led Gale to consider Katniss's romantic preference with hope, rather than futility, as it had fallen onto him after the prospect of losing him became so real to her - this preference, Madge had to work incredibly hard not to resent. Her current predicament made it hard to discern whether she would rather be in Katniss's or her own shoes.

Madge shifted her weight uncomfortably, using one arm to carefully balance her swollen belly.

Right. It would have felt as if it hadn't happened, except for that. Except for the baby. It seemed almost funny that Peeta had told the entire nation of Panem that he and Katniss were having a baby that didn't exist tonight on the television, when Madge couldn't seem to tell anyone about the very real baby that she had been carrying for months.

Maybe it would be funny, if she had been able to stop crying after Peeta's announcement, if she weren't a bulging 5 months pregnant, and if her father hadn't finally put 2 and 2 together.

She had been able to successfully mask her pregnancy until tonight, starting out in the colder months by wearing layers, and not showing much anyway. She'd gotten away with layers until it was about May, just over a month ago. Since then, she had made a point of wearing flowing dresses with an empire waist, or blouses that hung loose. Sometimes, she just carried a bag or a basket around with her all day, keeping it clutched in front of her whenever she was talking with someone. Between the new peacekeepers making life in District 12 more of a hell than it had been previously, uprisings in the Districts, and Peeta and Katniss preparing for the Quarter Quell, no one had time to worry about strange behavior from the Mayor's daughter.

She had considered trying to... rid herself of it somehow. The thought made her shudder now, but when she first realized what was happening inside her, she was so afraid. She just kept thinking, "I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready." She stood at the top of the steps for hours trying to work up the courage to throw herself down them - and never could.

Would it have been better? Would it have been better than this?

This, in itself, isn't so bad, Madge realized. Her father had been able to pull a few strings in the Capitol that Madge didn't even know that he had to get her into a Home for Unwed Mothers in District 2. Madge didn't know there was such a thing, and the implications of a Capitol sponsored place for young girls to live and have babies chilled her, despite the warmth of the night air.

Turns out District 12 had two industries - one of them was coal, and the other, Madge had realized, was making more contestants for the Games and workers for the mines. It must be the same for all of the Districts.

Madge didn't want to go, but she had been given no choice. When Peeta made the announcement tonight on the television, Madge had been unable to contain herself. The thought - even though she knew it wasn't true - of a pregnant mother in the Games was just too cruel. Her father had looked from her to the TV screen, and practically ripped her hands away from her stomach, which she had formed the terrible habit of holding protectively.

Madge would never forget the look in his eyes, fearful, angry, full of questions. Worse than his expression, Madge decided, with another shiver, was his silence. He had gone to his bedroom, and locked the door. For an hour, Madge sat in the study alone listening to the muffled conversations regarding her fate taking place on the other side of the door.

When her father returned, he explained that she was going to a home for unwed mothers in District 2, and that she would return when the baby was 2 years old. Until then, she would be provided a home, and a job to save up some money. He told her to pack her things.

Madge had been unsure of what to bring, most of her clothing didn't fit her anymore anyway. She packed a few of her favorite outfits, for after the baby came, and the sheet music for her piano. For good measure, she tossed in a scarf that Gale had left the night that... the night that they had done what they did that she had never gotten around to giving back to him. It was filthy, but Madge wanted a piece of him, anything, to bring along.

Then Madge had wandered into her mother's room, where her mother was predictably, miles away in a Morphling dream. She dug through her mother's closet until she found a few small boxes she remembered helping her mother label and organize years ago. One was labelled, "Madge: Baby Clothes" and another "Maternity Clothes" in her own careful handwriting. She brought these one one at a time into her room, the baby inside her kicking in protest at all of the movement this late at night.

"I hope that you're a girl," Madge admitted, "Even if you're not, you'll probably have to wear my old clothes anyway."

She loaded the clothes from the boxes into her suitcase, and ran the empty boxes back into her mother's room. She stared at her mother for a moment, the empty, decrepit shell of a once beautiful, vivacious young woman not entirely unlike herself. She wondered if her mother had been as scared to have her as Madge to have the baby that she was carrying.

She ached for her mother, for the first time in a long time. She had done well, accepting her father's vague explanations about her mother's disease, and trying her best not only to be independent and take care of herself, but her father and the household as well. Now, she needed her mother. She knew, of course, that needing something, in District 12, rarely meant that you would actually get it - even for her, the Mayor's Daughter.

"Mama," Madge's voice sounded strange saying this word, and she had found herself trying to remember the last time that she had a real conversation with her mother. Nothing came to mind.

"Mama... I'll come home soon, okay? I- I love you, Mama." She brushed back the blonde mat of hair from her mother's forehead and planted a light kiss there.

Then she had gathered up her suitcase and made her way out the door of her room and down the steps, fighting the urge to think about the weighty truth - she would not to return for over 2 years. At the door, her father gave her a great deal of money with instructions on who to pay how much to get to District 2, and a little bit extra for after the baby came. As he placed the money in her hands, he gave them a light squeeze.

That was as close to sentimental as he got about the whole thing. Without even so much as a hug, he sent her on her way.

Now Madge found herself dragging her feet, which was bad idea. She was going to be riding in a coal shipment heading to the Capitol that would make a stop in District 2, and the train would be leaving at 1 o'clock in the morning. What time was it, anyway? She had left her house around 11:30.

She glanced around the empty square for a timepiece, knowing full well that there was none, and continued her lonely trek through the streets.

They were abandoned, and no warm glowing lights came peeking through the windows to guide her through the dark streets. Thin curls of smoke still rising from a few chimneys here or there was the only sign that she was not the only person in the world who was living - person and a half perhaps.

She made her way past the peacekeeper's new implements of punishment: the stocks, the whipping post, and the gallows. The latter two cast eerie and elongated shadows in the moonlight. She stopped, and found herself starting at the whipping post where she had seen Gale flogged until the flesh of his back was in ribbons.

Of course, no one had paid attention to her in the square that day, not with Katniss and Peeta and Haymitch Abernathy swooping in to save the day, but she had been there. She had seen it, and she had felt every lash that fell upon him in her core, where the life inside her had begun to stir. That was the day that she had stopped speaking with Gale completely.

Why had she done such a thing? Had she been afraid? Had she understood that Katniss's favor would fall upon him, and couldn't stand the idea of being rejected? It seemed like it must be deeper than that. Was she afraid that her baby might be punished somehow by proxy for having a father who broke the law? It seemed it might be more selfish than that. Whatever the reason, that day had frightened her so, that between she and Gale, even when they saw each other at Katniss and Peeta's training sessions before the Quell, the bridge was burned - by no fault of his, but rather, by her own free will.

She sighed. No point in ruminating over things now... except, it didn't feel right. Everyone in District 12 knew that Katniss wasn't coming back from the Quarter Quell. Whatever meager hope they'd had for her return was lost when she and Peeta both got 12's for their training scores - an obvious ploy on the part of the Game Makers to make Katniss and Peeta into moving targets, rather than real contenders. If Gale knows that, which he must, would he do something reckless? Something that may prevent him from ever meeting his son or daughter when Madge returned and was finally ready to talk to him?

As if to affirm her thoughts, the baby inside her gave a kick. Madge looked down and affectionately ran a hand over her belly.

"Do you want to go meet daddy?"

* * *

><p>Katniss sat on the bed of her room in the Training Center, listening to the running water that indicated that Peeta was really in her room with her, taking a shower. She was still in shock over the events of the past hour. Her dress, burning, Cinna, in danger, Peeta, sharing their private marriage with the world, her supposed pregnancy pregnancy, and perhaps the most stunning and beautiful image that was swimming through her mind - the Victors, joined by their linked hands, standing in a defiant and powerful line as the screens went out at the end of the Interview.<p>

Then, utter chaos had broken loose.

She had stripped off her feathered, black wedding gown, and sat only in her silky white slip, which was a bit smoke damaged, and was working on removing each and every tiny pearl that had been affixed to her being - in her hair, glued on her nails, around her neck, her wrists, her ankles. Ropes of pearls keeping her Mockingjay self tied to the ground, if even for just a moment she had dared to hope that she could fly free.

This of course, was not going to happen, she knew, pulling off the 3 pearl rings that adorned her shaking fingers.

That was the damn problem, the shaking. She couldn't get her hands to stop shaking long enough to unhook the intricate clasps trapping her in her beautiful bondage.

She supposed she looked beautiful - polished, painted, and perfect, according to the standards set by the capitol. She didn't feel beautiful because of her hair, though, or her skin; she felt beautiful because of what the Victors turned Tributes did tonight, but her confidence began to deflate, as her mind began to switch gears. She couldn't forget that the Games began tomorrow, and there was nothing she could do to delay them.

With the start of the Games would come the beginning of the end for her. In a matter of a week or so, she would be dead. Was she scared, elated, emotional, numb?

She couldn't even begin to sort her feelings on everything until she escaped from these damn pearls. Moments ago, she had just been relieved to get Peeta in her room, and to close the door between them and the outside world, but now her head was spinning and her body anxious. A door couldn't stop the approaching dawn, couldn't stop the countdown until the she and Peeta found themselves fighting for their lives in the arena.

"THESE DAMN PEARLS!" she found herself shouting. "PEETA!"

Peeta was by her side in seconds, soaking wet, steaming, in fact, and completely naked. Katniss flushed, but couldn't bring herself to shy away from him. Instead, she focused all of her attention on his face. His familiar, steady, and beautiful face she had come to know and... and what? Supposedly, to love, but did she?

Katniss decided this wasn't the time for emotional existentialism. Peeta knelt in front of her so that his nakedness felt less imposing, and took one of her shaking hand in his. His touch was warm, and wet, but so familiar, so steady, even after the chaos of the evening, that Katniss clung onto it, a little too hard perhaps.

"Are you okay, Katniss?" his voice deceptively soft, masking the panic that lead him to be at her side so quickly.

"I-," Katniss fumbled. Was the heat radiating from him just the residual temperature of the water? She found it hard to look into his steady blue eyes, but rather, she found her eyes wanting to... explore him. She caught her eyes as they were rounding his muscular shoulders, and had begun to travel down his broad chest.

She realized, almost humorously, that she had never seen Peeta naked before.

She had seen him in his undershorts, but this was different, somehow. She had never felt quite so... aware of his presence. Surely it was the unsteadiness of her emotions about the Games, and nothing more that was making her feel so desperate for him. She realized how loudly she'd shrieked his name; no wonder he'd come running for her.

"I'm sorry Katniss," Peeta suddenly started, snapping her out of her own thoughts and back to where he knelt in front of her. "I didn't even- I," He began to look around for something to cover himself.

"It's okay. Now, just- help me. With my pearls, please."

"Are you sure you don't want me to get dressed first?" Peeta was blushing now too.

Katniss found herself wanting him to stay; to be close to her right now. The jumble of feelings had settled in her stomach. They were still fighting it out to see which would overcome, and if it was fear, if it was self-pity, or sadness she knew that she was going to lose it.

"Are you clean?" She asked, remembering that he was in the middle of a shower when she called for him.

"Enough," Peeta nodded his affirmation.

"Then, help me with my pearls." Katniss extended her ankle towards his kneeling form, and the pearly anklet shifted slightly. Her eyes didn't leave his. She wanted him to know that she was serious, that she meant it, this, whatever was about to happened between them. He still looked unsure.

Peeta could hold her.

"Peeta," Katniss tried to soften her voice, to find the special tone that Peeta used for her name in her own register. "My... friend..." That sounded wrong.

She set her foot down on Peeta's thigh. High. The contact sent a strange tickle up her leg. Electricity. Connection. What was she trying to do?

He could steady her.

"My ally." The words dripped from her tongue thickly, sweetly, like syrup. They sounded weak. She set her other foot on his other thigh and scooted forward on the bed.

Peeta looked wary, but let her continue. She wanted to be close him, needed to close the distance between them, until what?

Peeta could fend off her oncoming nightmares.

"Until nothing," she thought. "Nothing." She just wanted him to _be_with her, present, and close, as he had been so often at night.

He could block the past.

She'd wanted this, since the training scores, since he painted that picture of Rue in his private session. She'd wanted him to be close to her again. Hadn't she gotten him, last night, and the night before? Hadn't she spend the entire day with him yesterday?

She wanted more. She wanted a lifetime that she would never have... that they would never have, baking bread for Haymitch, and painting in her father's game book. She wanted sunny afternoons spent like the one the day before, sunning and playing, revelling in each other's company. She wanted more sunsets, more dinners with her mother and Prim. She wanted to hear Madge play the piano again.

In this moment, in Peeta, she wanted all of those things. She wanted him to give to her a life that she would never have - and she knew that if she let him, he would; but this too would pass. This doubt. This fear. She just needed to be closer.

"My husband." The word came out before she could even think to stop herself. She had no time to consider how it would affect Peeta, as she slid down the bed and shifted her legs so that her thighs fell to either side of his, and her undergarments made silky contact with his nakedness.

Katniss wrapped her arms around Peeta's neck and stared into his eyes, trying to read how this last title has struck him. His gaze led Katniss to realize that maybe he was no more sure of what she was doing than she was.

Without a word, his hands moved to her hair and start untangling the strands of pearls from her tresses. He had already worked the anklet free of her leg, and it sat next to their entangled form on the ground.

Katniss's body began to ache. She wanted his steadiness, his warmth, his protection from these thoughts, this pain.

This wasn't close enough. It was the only explanation for what she was feeling, this electrical current humming through her body with growing intensity. She needed to feel him, feel his heart and hers, beating together. His steadiness could become hers if she could just get close enough to him. Decisively, she whipped her slip off over her head and pressed her bare body against his - hoping that he saw nothing as she did so.

The feeling of sis skin against hers was like the feeling of taking the first step out of the claustrophobic coal mines. Like suddenly she had remembered how to breathe. She inhaled deeply, and let out a shaky breath. She felt the strings of pearls in her hair begin to slide down her back along with tumble of hair.

Peeta had managed to remove most of her pearl adornments, just the necklace and the bracelet remained. His eyes caught hers as his hands dropped from her hair to her neck to work at the clasp holding the necklace in place. As his hands brushed her neck, a sharp shock flew down her spine, deep into a place that she could only think to describe as the base of her being. She arched her back into him, and let out a small moan.

Closer. She wanted him closer.

Peeta's hardness suddenly bulged against Katniss's underwear, which was silky-soft as her slip had been, and just as much of a barrier between her and what she wanted from Peeta. Their eyes locked, and Katniss became aware of just how close she wanted to be to Peeta Mellark, to her husband. She closed the distance between their lips, and kissed him.

She wanted to be so close to him that he was inside her.

* * *

><p>Madge tapped softly at the door to Gale's home. It was on the outskirts of District 12, not too far from the train station. She'd picked up her pace from the square to ensure that she could stop herself with concern about the time.<p>

She wouldn't be long anyway, there wasn't really much to say, when it came down to it.

She wanted him to know. She wished that she had wanted this earlier, but also accepted that she simply hadn't.

She tapped again, a bit louder, but she dared not to knock again, for fear of waking Gale's younger siblings. Just as she was about to go, the door slowly creaked open, and a woman who could only be Gale's mother peeked out. She looked confused, and so very tired.

"I'm sorry." Madge immediately realized that midnight was not the time to go knocking around District 12 looking for a friend. "I didn't mean to wake you, I'm-"

"Oh no, I wasn't asleep," the woman smiled. "I'm Hazelle, and you must be Madge."

How did Hazelle know who she was?

"Katniss's friend, right? You gave her the pin."

Of course.

"Yes, I ah-" Madge hadn't counted on Gale's mother answering the door. She found herself tongue tied. Hazelle's eyes fell on Madge's bulging stomach.

"Oh, my." His mother couldn't hide her concern, but tried to pass it off as excitement. "Congratulations."

"Thanks." Madge nodded. She was trying to think of an excuse to dismiss herself, rather than asking for Gale and bringing an onslaught of questions she couldn't answer, when he appeared behind his mother, at the door.

He was taller than she was, and he had a much harder face, but seeing them stand by each other like this was uncanny.

Madge tried to think of something to say, but she was all out of words for Gale, still, even after all this time. She just looked at him, studying him, perpetually dirty with coal dust, grey eyes piercing even in this dim light, and his face permanently set in a scowl.

"Gale, you didn't tell me that Madge was friend of yours." Hazelle seemed to sense the tension between them.

"He watched the Games at my house, with Prim, and Mrs. Everdeen." Madge jumped at the opportunity to provide an explanation about why she was here - even if it was a weak one. She felt nervous, and her hands instinctively wrapped around her belly. She dropped them to her sides immediately, but it was too late.

Gale had seen the movement, and his eyes widened in recognition.

Shit. This was not how she had intended to let him know.

His eyes dropped to her suitcase, which sat on the step beside her, and asked, "Going somewhere?"

"Yeah," Madge squirmed under his gaze. "I was hoping you might... walk me to the train station... for old time's sake." She tried to make it sound feasible to Hazelle that Gale was just a friend of hers. She didn't want to get him in trouble with him family, who she knew that he adored. "I would ask Katniss but, she-"

"Not here, I know." Gale couldn't stop staring at her. His eyes bore into her, as if trying to see, to sense the baby inside her. _His_baby inside her. He understood, she had no doubt about that.

"I can walk you." He said after a moment, shaking his head to break his own concentration. Her turned to Hazelle, "Mom, I'll be back."

Hazelle looked concerned. "Alright." She hugged Gale tightly, and disappeared back into the small house.

Gale didn't look at her for a moment, as if determined not to become entranced again.

"I'm sorry," were the first words that came out of Madge's mouth. The sounded stupid, inadequate, childish. Madge was afraid Gale might be angry, but instead, he sighed, and after taking a moment to stare at the night sky, turned to face her.

"Me too."

* * *

><p>Katniss's lips found Peeta's over and over and over again. Drinking him into her, tasting him, smelling him. She wanted all of him. Her body ached to be closer to his.<p>

How, how could she get closer?

"Peeta... Peeta." she moaned between kisses.

Peeta's hands were everywhere, in her hair, her back, her arms, her face. He returned her kisses in earnest, and gulped huge gasps of air as she said his name.

"Kat-" he began, but she cut him off. No. No thinking. No talking. "Just be close to me, Peeta," she thought. "Closer than you are now, closer than you've ever been."

"Peeta..." she moaned again. Her body felt like it was going to turn inside out. She had grown hollow, and needed Peeta to become whole again, to get a handle on her rushing pulse, thoughts, feelings...

"Katniss" he got out, but it didn't sound like a moan. It sounded like the beginning of a conversation.

Even as she kissed his neck, his shoulders, his chest, Katniss could feel Peeta's hands collecting her, stopping her.

"No," she thought. "No." She could feel the hollow inside her settling in. The distance between herself and Peeta growing, even though they remained in the exact same position. "No no no no no."

Hot, wet tears came flooding to Katniss's eyes.

* * *

><p>Madge couldn't stand it. She had expected him to yell, to get angry. To ask her why she had kept his own child from him, until it was too late.<p>

Instead, he had kept silent, walking alongside her with carrying her suitcase as she had explained the facility in District 2 where she was going.

Madge's chest began to grow tight, and her knees began to feel weak. She came to halt as she and Gale reached the platform, tears sneaking into formation in the corners of her eyes.

Katniss Everdeen was in a position she had never imagined she might be in ever in her whole life. There had been a lot of those since the Games started, but this one felt... pathetic, absurd, somehow. She sat, straddling her husband, nearly naked, with her face buried in her hands, sobbing. She felt ridiculous, and ashamed. What was she crying for?

Peeta gently used his hands to pulls Katniss's from her eyes, which she was trying to hide. Tears cut streaky paths down her cheeks in her make-up. He kissed each of her cheeks, and looked into her eyes.

"Katniss... You're my wife. I love you." He began, steadily, pulling her along with his words. "That is why I would never do this to you. What I said tonight, that could have been real if... things had happened differently between us."

Katniss looked into Peeta's blue eyes, and know that he was telling her the absolute truth. She couldn't tell him that getting knocked up didn't matter to her, that she was going to die in a matter of days anyway. So she just nodded.

"I wish... things had been more like you said," Katniss admitted, after a moment.

* * *

><p>Gale set the suitcase down and wrapped his arms around Madge.<p>

In this moment, she realized how very much that she had missed him. His warmth, his smell, his arms, the feeling of being pressed against him. He stroked her hair with his careful hands.

For what must have been 15 minutes, they stood like this. Perhaps they both understood that this wasn't a time for words, that time had gone and passed a long time ago. It was far too late for mere words to improve the situation.

They simply leaned into one another, finding the support they had forgotten to miss. Madge held on so long, that a part of her began to believe that she might never have to let go.

Which is why, when the wind from the train blowing her hair, rather than the sound alerted her to its presence, she jumped.

Gale seemed to have come back to reality too. He stepped back, squeezed her hands, and looked at her.

"What happens when you come back?" He asked her.

"I don't know." Madge admitted.

They started at each other for a long time, as if trying to memorize the other's faces. Madge realized she felt like this was the last time she would ever see Gale, but that didn't make any sense.

The conductor came to her, asking for the money and her bag. She paid him, and handed him her suitcase. He informed her the the train would be loaded and leaving the station in 2 minutes. 2 minutes to say goodbye, suddenly didn't seem like enough time.

Madge looked back at Gale - tragic, damaged, cruel, and beautiful Gale.

"I wish it had been more like Peeta said," she admitted. "For us."

* * *

><p>"What do you mean?" Peeta asked, holding Katniss's face in his hands gently, knowing somehow that keeping her gaze meant keeping her sanity.<p>

"I wish we'd been happy." Katniss admitted. Then, "I wish we'd had sex."

"Why?" Peeta could't help but smile.

"Because I never have, and now I never will."

The smile dropped from Peeta's face.

"Yes you will, Katniss."

"No," Katniss mused, self-pity draining from her voice. "If you die, who'm I gonna do it with?"

Katniss held her breath, and prayed that Peeta wouldn't try to answer. He refrained.

When she spoke again, her words came sharp and heavy.

"I'm not ready, Peeta."

"For what?" he asked, smoothing her hair back soothingly.

"To kill again. To watch you die. To die myself." There was no self-pity left in her voice, only anguish. "I'm not ready."

* * *

><p>"What do you mean?" Gale asked, looking perplexed, and a little tired. This was not the time to be indirect. Madge began to walk towards the front of the train where she is to board. "What do you mean, Madge?" he repeated.<p>

She turned to face him. "I wish we'd been happy." She smiled, sadly, then admitted, "I wish that we could have been married."

"You should have told me." Gale snapped, and for the first time all night, there was a hardness in his voice.

"You never would have chosen me." Madge said, the sadness draining from her voice. "Not after she chose you."

Gale could say nothing.

"I'm not ready, Gale" Madge said, stepping onto the train.

"For what?" Gale asked.

"To leave. To have a baby." There was only heartbreak in her voice when she repeated, helplessly, "I'm not ready." She shut the door to the train car, and leaving Gale alone to watch the train pull away.


	6. Hijacked

**CHAPTER 6: Hijacked**

Katniss couldn't help it.

She knew full well what might happen to her. She knew that this was not on her schedule, no. The purple tattoo on her wrist showed that she should be sleeping now, safely tucked away next to Johanna in a hospital bed. Probably drugged. Katniss had never really been one to follow instructions.

She was fully aware that it was almost two in the morning. This made sense to her. What didn't make sense to her is why it looked exactly the same in this wretched place at all times of the day or night. She assumed that it would make more sense to dim lights at night, or even turn them off. Maybe in other areas the lights were turned off, she realized, just not in here, not in the hospital.

Katniss was a huntress. She knew how to move quickly; she knew how to move quietly. So here she was, padding heel-to-toe down the brightly-lit hallways. She only vaguely remembered where she was headed. She just knew that she had to go there.

The nightmares would not stop without him.

Katniss had done a lot of things in her life to procure a good night of sleep. She had signed up for tessarae and illegally hunted in the woods to feed her family. She had tied herself to a tree and allied with people who she believed wanted to kill her to stay alive in the Arena. She had gotten engaged and pretended to be pregnant to keep her family safe. None of these things had ever spared her from the gruesome nightmares that plagued her now.

No, the nightmares raged, boiled and burned at night without him. Something about Peeta Mellark made it possible for her to sleep, and Katniss had not had a good night of sleep in a very long time. So long, in fact, that she didn't particularly care if Peeta strangled her for coming to him. She felt as good as dead as it was. Sleep or die, it was simple. The morphling never helped, and nor did any dose of warm milk with honey, chamomile, melatonin, roots of valerian and belladonna.

So, it had to be him.

"And here he is," she thought, standing in front of the door. She couldn't see him; the room had no windows.

She insisted, before he was put here, that she would have a key, that she would be let in, no matter his condition. It was possible that they'd changed it since then to keep her safe, after he tried to strangle her. She didn't think so. There had been too many other things going on, and she had a feeling. Years of hunting and two stints in the arena had made it easy for Katniss to rely on her instincts.

There was no one in the hallway to observe as she flashed the key over the pad. There was no one to watch her as she slipped inside of his room, into the darkness.

She was in, standing with her back flush against the closed door, ready to bolt. She had a fleeting thought that perhaps she could sleep right there, perhaps his nearness was all it took. She knew in an instant that it was this kind of thinking that was caused by lack of sleep. It was stupid.

However, surprising him seemed even stupider in that moment, and so she whispered, "Peeta?"

It was so quiet, so tentative that she hardly recognized her own voice. He did not stir. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness so that she could see that he was sleeping, but not well. His brow was glittering with sweat, and he had a grimace on his face that she recognized. He was dreaming.

"Peeta," she said again, just a little bit louder. He moved. His eyes fluttered open and locked on her. She knew he was improving as she watched his eyes narrow, and his pupils dilated and retracted quickly. He was fighting.

"Katniss?"

"Yes," she said, standing firm across the room.

It was very quiet. The machines hummed a strange cadence.

"What are you doing here?" She could tell he was trying to be calm, and she felt selfish, ashamed.

"I couldn't sleep," Katniss answered honestly, holding her palms out and open to him. "I wanted to..." she struggled for the words, "To see you."

"To see me?" Then he scoffed and shook his head and wiped the sweat from his brow, "Aren't you afraid of me? I remember staying alive being your number one priority. So why are you here when the last time we spoke I tried to strangle you?"

"If you kill me," she chose her words carefully, "at least I will know I died the way I expected to, in your arms, in the middle of the night, in a very strange place."

He seemed to consider this for a moment. In the light from the machines, she could see his eyes doing that strange thing again, his pupils enlarging and contracting. He shook himself and looked at her with that steady blue gaze. To her, he seemed clear-headed.

"You should go. I'm not safe for you. I can't- keep you safe," he whispered brokenly.

It was like a safeword. There was enough of him present to tell her to go away. This was how she knew to take a step closer, and when nothing happened, another step, until finally she was reaching for his hand.

From an outsider's point of view, it might have looked like the two of them had never met, that Katniss was introducing herself, holding her hand out to shake his. This could not have been further from the truth. She reached for him as a lifeline. They looked strange, him in his hospital gown, her in the gray pajamas issued to everyone in District 13.

The feeling of relief was almost instantaneous as their hands made contact. Katniss watched Peeta struggle, and waited. She had no way of knowing what was going on in his mind, and truly, she wasn't sure whether she wanted to know more than anything, or never, ever wanted to find out.

It wasn't pretty in there, that was a certain thing.

Peeta tried to think scientifically about what he was experiencing. The doctors had coached him what felt like a thousand times. He had slowly learned how to recognize that strange shininess that came from the Tracker Jacker memories. What he felt now was called a tactile delusion, the sensation that the feeling of Katniss' hand was alternately warm and rough as he remembered it being, and hard, cold and like strange marble - and yes, weirdly beautiful and shiny. Tactile delusion, he reminded himself as he ran his thumb up her palm. Feeling something that isn't really there, or misperceiving what is there.

It wasn't that some part of him didn't know that she was real; a human, the girl who sang in class when they were children, the girl to whom he gave bread when she was starving, the girl who saved his life in the Games. That same part of him felt overwhelming love for her, and relief that she was here, but another part of him - the part that felt things and experienced the world - was severely confused. He breathed deeply and tried to connect more steadily to the part of him that made sense, the part that told her he was real.

He had tried to do this before with the doctors and with Delly, but it had only been marginally successful. This felt a little different, somehow. He had felt so certain that she wouldn't return to him; in fact, the part of him that loved her so deeply didn't want her to come back, fearing for her safety.

Now that part of him rapped quietly at his being, asking to be let in as Katniss looked at him. His eyes adjusted to the light some, and so he could see her more clearly. Peeta could tell that something was wrong with her, maybe she was sick or upset, but mostly she looked tired. She looked like she did in the arena, and that quiet part of him, the only part of him that didn't feel cold and angry, wanted her to be close to him. She seemed to be waiting for him, for his permission. He tugged gently at her hand and immediately regretted it, as she transformed into a muttation almost immediately.

He tried to keep a grip on that tiny part of him. She looked incredibly dangerous. Her teeth were incredibly shiny and sharp, her skin shifted from purple, to green to pink and back again, her eyes flashed a strange, unsettling shade of emerald green that certainly didn't occur in nature.

This though, was where the Capitol failed. They made her look dangerous. They made her look different. They made her look inhuman, but the nature of the tracker jacker venom is such that she was still beautiful. Her usually dark-brown hair was incredibly sleek, and black as night; her lips were a violent red, like she had painted them with blood. And she _shone_. Though he feared that her shiny skin held an incurable poison, he pulled her close to him.

He was right, her skin was strange, and his hands slid weirdly, wonderingly down her arm. It felt too smooth to be the arm he knew to be incredibly damaged from Johanna Mason ripping out her tracker in their second games. There was a disconnect between what he saw and felt, and what was really going on. Her terrifying, emerald eyes flashed up to him as she climbed into the bed next to him, cold and hard, like a lizard, shining all the while.

Then, just as suddenly, she was back to herself - warm, chestnut haired, and smelling like the forest. He exhaled deeply and held her close to him. He had so many things to say to her, to ask her in this moment, but all he could do was bury one hand in her hair and use the other hand to hold her close to him. Perhaps he knew that this was all he could handle.

Then, she was cold, and that part of him that loves her seemed oh-so-quiet. He knew it was the venom, the torture telling him this, but all he could think was that Katniss came here for herself. She clearly did not come to see if he was okay, she was here to fulfill her own needs. To use him as she has always used him.

With her strange, elongated fingers, she reached up and stroked his face.

"Peeta, are you okay?" Her voice was so real to him that she was all earth-tones and warmth against him again.

He breathed deeply, and drank her real form in with every sense he had, and then nodded carefully. She was Katniss. Her body was solid, warm and soft. Her breathing and her voice were quiet. She smelled, as usual, like outside, but also like medicine, and much like all the other people living in 13. He kissed her head, and felt her soft hair against his lips. The part of him that knew her, loved her, and wanted to protect her was quietly gaining strength in the back of his mind.

She moved against him, nuzzling into his neck like a cat. She made a quiet, blissful noise, and he catalogued it. This was Katniss. This was what it was like with Katniss. She had not come to leech life from him. She had come because this is how it should be. She had come, he knew, because she could not sleep without him. Because there was something between the two of them, between him and his...

Enemy.

Enemy was the first word that pops into his head. Her lizardlike body was coiled around him now, dangerously, like a snake. She had come to finish the job, finally she had used him up to the end, broken his mind. Now she would crush him to death with those lissome fingers. It was clear to him that this was the end. That Katniss had come to kill him. That he was about to die by the hand of his wife.

And this thought sparked the memory of the secret toast. Her hands now seemed to be resting harmlessly, one at her side and one right where his heart was beating. His wife. His wife. No matter what anyone said, no matter even what Katniss said, he had married this woman. She now seemed to have normal hands, but they were still glowing, their color shifting like a dark sunset, green, purple, black, dark pink.

He could hear her breathing. She had fallen asleep. The image of her face was so bizarre that he found he could not take his eyes from it. The strange colors were draining off of her like so much paint until she was her own color again. She slept peacefully, taking deep, slow breaths, nestled perfectly against him.

It was only now that he remembered he had been sleeping only minutes ago. He looked at her again, and pressed a kiss to her forehead for good measure. He held her securely and closed his eyes. Peeta was not sure how many more times, or if he would ever, get to sleep next to her again. He also knew that whatever form she took, she would ward off the nightmares of the arena.

This was enough for him, as he slid back into blackness.


	7. Maysilee Hawthorne Undersee

**CHAPTER 7: Maysilee Hawthorne Undersee**

There was no comfort that Madge could imagine, that could ever relieve the despair that was threatening to overtake her. Even the sight of her daughter Maysilee's sleepy grey eyes just reminded her of him - of Gale.

It seemed to Madge, as if her heart had been crushed under something very heavy, but rather than just dying, it continued stubbornly, painfully pumping blood.

"I see the moon and the moon sees me," Madge found her lips volunteering the words for her daughter's favorite lullaby. To Madge they sounded like foreign detached syllables, void of any meaning, but she had sung the damn thing so many times that it made no difference.

"And the moon sees somebody I wanna see."

Her searing hot tears seemed to be the only warmth she had to offer her poor daughter, as she carried her to her crib in the tiny nursery that she shared with one other baby.

"God bless the moon, and God bless me"

Madge didn't believe in a God; not anymore. No one had ever talked about God at all in District 12, but she had begun to consider the possibility, after Maysilee was born. She had really seemed like some sort of miracle. She had been so indescribably beautiful.

"And God bless the somebody I wanna see."

10 perfect, tiny fingers, a matching set of 10 impossibly wiggly toes, rosy cheeks, and a round, sniffly nose. Some of the other girls at the facility had mistaken Madge for a District 1 Native because of her pale complexion and blonde curls, but after Maysilee was born, no one had to ask where she was from. Maysilee was born with a shock of dark hair and grey eyes - seam eyes. She looked just like her father.

Madge drew a shaky breath, so that she could continue, "God looked down on me from above."

Perhaps, in some way, this feeling was Madge's fault. When District 12 was fire-bombed, she refused to believe that Gale was dead. He was just too smart to die like that. She accepted that her family, her District was dead, but not him.

"And He gave you for me to love,"

Her faith was rewarded when the Propos from District 13 started hijacking the air waves. She had seen him, at first just in glimpses, but then more, and more.

"He picked you out from all the rest,"

Then Gale became part of the Star Squad of rebels, along with Katniss, the Tribute from the Quarter Quell Finnick O'Daire, and even Peeta; though Madge couldn't imagine how he escaped the Capitol. After that, Madge saw him so often on the TV.

"'Cause He knew I'd love you the very best."

She'd begun to hope. She'd begun to imagine that he could make it back to her someday, and meet his daughter, Maysilee. The other girls in the facility even teased her about scoring such a bad boy, once they figured out that the father of her baby was one of the premiere rebel military strategists, and a prominent member of the Star Squad.

Hope is a very fragile thing.

"I once had a heart and it was true,"

Maysilee, the tiny life nestled safely in her arms gave a yawn.

"But now it's gone from me to you,"

She had no way of knowing what terrible things were happening... Had happened that very day.

"Take care of it as I have done,"

This tiny, innocent baby had no idea that she had lost her entire family in a matter of few months. Her grandparents before she was born...

"For you have two and I have none,"

And now, her father too. The thought caught Madge's voice in her throat, and the melody halted. Gale. This morning, on the TV, she had seen the Rebel Star Squad storming a Capitol Street. She had watched as the booby trapped street sprung to life around them. She had seen Peeta fall into some sort of fit and attack his own comrades. She had seen the wall of deadly black material engulf those left after the first few traps were sprung - Gale among them. She had listened as both the Capitol and the Rebels broadcast confirmation of his death.

Maysilee gave a wiggle of protest, and Madge knew that if she didn't want to be up until dawn with her baby, she had to finish putting her down for the night. Swallowing hard the catch in her throat so that it became a tight, heavy knot in her stomach, she forced herself to continue.

"If I go to Heaven and you're not there,"

She lay Maysilee down, and tucked the thin pink blanket that had been her own as a baby, up around her daughter. Her daughter, no longer their daughter.

"I'll write your name on a golden stair,"

She brushed Maysilee's smooth cheek with her fingers as gently as she could, then flipped a small switch to turn on her daughter's nightlight.

"If you're not there by judgment day,"

Madge's knees began to feel weak, and shaky, so she leaned against the crib, holding on until she was white knuckled.

"I'll know you went the other way,"

Gale Hawthorne...

"I see the moon and the moon sees me."

Madge knew that wherever he was...

"And the moon sees somebody I wanna see."

She would never forgive him for leaving her.

"God bless the moon, and God bless me"

For leaving the daughter she knew he would have loved.

"And God bless the somebody I wanna see"

As she watched her daughter's grey eyes close, she could think of only 2 words to say in lieu of her usual, "Good night."

"I'm sorry."

And she was. She was sorry that she had never been able to throw herself down the stairs at her home in District 12 which no longer even existed. This would have been the only way to protect her daughter from living a life destined to be full of nothing but killing, dying, sadness, and regrets.


	8. The Valley Song

**CHAPTER 8: The Valley Song  
><strong>

Peeta believed that someday Katniss Everdeen would stop surprising him, or start surprising him, one of the two. It was all very, very messy. He was there, of course, witnessing Katniss pull the bow back, aiming precisely, then twisting her body radically and letting a single arrow fly directly into President Coin's chest. He watched her face the entire time. It was eerie. And he knew what she would do, he knew about the nightlock pill, kept her alive, again, one last time, he told himself.

Peeta considered later that watching Katniss' trial was probably not the best thing for his mental health. It brought all of his questions about the Nature of Katniss into the light. It was almost as though someone had dug into his brain and shaken all of the arguments out.

_She's a heartless killer_, a justicemaker would argue.

_Please_, another would shout back, _she's a child, she's confused, there's been insurmountable trauma in her life_.

_Confused enough to hit the president square in the heart from one hundred yards away!_

_After all she's been through_, the first would respond, _are you truly surprised?_

Peeta wasn't sure. In his mind the arguments had more to do with Gale Hawthorne and kisses in caves, nights on speeding Capitol trains. Did she feel anything for him in those first games? Did she feel anything for him, even after they had been engaged in the Captiol? Was she really that horribly selfish? Peeta just wasn't sure. The Jury didn't seem to be either.

Peeta wasn't sure what took him to wandering around that afternoon. He was pretty dedicated to his daily routine. Dr. Aurelius was pretty insistent that he stick to doing something constructive every day, getting some exercise, getting outside, and having a conversation. Peeta wasn't sure where his day went off course. It started with a humming he heard at breakfast. He wasn't sure if that was something he really heard, or part of the weirdness that seemed to have taken over his brain.

Later, while having a nice discussion with one of the cooks, he heard it again.

"What is that?"

"The singing?"

"Yeah, that noise." Peeta tilted his head and strained to listen over the bustle of the kitchen.

"Just someone else in the house. Singing."

Singing. Peeta, his usual helpful self, said goodbye to the kitchen staff after offering to help with their breakfast clean up (and getting thoroughly turned down, of course), Peeta stood outside the back door to the kitchen and listened closely. It was harder to hear in the hallway, where the plush carpets and thick wallpaper soaked up some of the sounds. But he could hear it. As he walked down the hallway, trying to step lightly, he listened. He took another hallway and chose an open room. No, quieter in here. Back into the hallway, into another room. A little louder, but coming from above. It went on like this.

The singing came to its loudest as Peeta realized that this was perhaps, the first time in his life he had actually tracked something. Hunted something. Not that it was exactly hunting. It lead to a door. Perhaps he hadn't been thinking about what the singing might be, but it was only with the combination of the singing and the thought of hunting that he realized what he had found.

Katniss.

Without thinking, he opened the door, and there she was, wild-haired, wild-eyed, sitting on the sill of the window, singing.

Singing, singing, singing. He hadn't heard her sing in so long. She didn't seem to see him, even though they were looking right at one another. She was singing a song he had never heard before, but it was hazy. A few notes of it made their way through the nets and the haze of his mind, but the title of the song and the lyrics eluded him. He shook his focus clear of the lingering notes and tried to take in what was in front of him. He had walked here in such a daze that he hadn't considered what the consequences of bursting in on the "Mockingjay who'd flown the coop" as the Capitol's lowest-common-denominator tabloids were calling her.

Her braid was gone. Her hair was all angry knots and tangled fury. Her eyes were as he had never seen them - unfocused, miles, years away even. He had seen Katniss in many states, but she was always thinking, calculating, and yes, even feeling with those grey eyes. Today, they were empty, hollow, as if the girl behind them had never been on fire at all. He knew what Katniss looked like when things were bad. This was worse.

He remembered so many, many things about Katniss, he wasn't sure which things were true or which were false, but Peeta did trust the present. Whatever Katniss had done in the past, whether or not she was guilty or not guilty, right now, she was hurting, badly, and he had never been good at standing by and watch her hurt.

It occurred to him how strange it was that he could hear her way down in the kitchen, because he could barely make out the words that rasped out from her chapped lips now, standing so close to her. Her mouth moved, but her voice was growing weaker. Perhaps he sensed her presence, though, if she did, she didn't show it beyond quieting her voice, but that could have been from exhaustion, or completely arbitrary.

Peeta had no clue what he was doing here. What had he come here to do? He could do nothing but watch her; this scarred, fragile creature hardly registered as Katniss to him - Mutt, human, or otherwise.

"Katniss?" he heard himself whisper, almost involuntarily.

She paid him no mind, but continued staring off into that far off place, where he could guess she saw nothing but pain.

Pity. Pity must have been what drove him to take a step towards her, which he regretted almost instantly. Katniss flew off of the windowsill where she had been huddled. It was not an agile, Katniss type leap, but a desperate scrambling, which resulted in her hitting the floor on all fours, hard.

He would have thought that she might cry out, or at least stop her hoarse singing, but she didn't. She simply huddled against the wall and let more feeble notes escape her lips.

"Katniss," he said again, his voice full of almost as much pain as her eyes.

Instead of risking another step forward, he knelt, as slowly as he could and strained his ears to make out the words of the melody that was obviously her sanity, clinging by a single precarious thread. The wrong move and he may find himself forced to chose whether to save her again or... or what... to let her die? Would he... could he let Katniss Everdeen die?

After what felt like a long time waiting, her voice began to pick up in volume, and Peeta was able to make out a few words.

"Deep in the meadow," she sang. "Under the willow..."

As the words of the song began to register in his brain, Peeta let out a soft gasp, as the song struck a chord with him and he could remember...

"A bed of... grass, a soft green pillow..."

Peeta looked at his own hands, turning them over and over again as he recalled, in vivid detail himself, painting on the floor of the training center. He could remember mixing all sorts of muds and berry stains to capture the innocent face of the girl from District 11, Rue.

"Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes... And when again they open, the sun will rise."

He speckled her dark hair with bits of color... with flowers. He painted in her hair the flower wreath that Katniss Everdeen had adorned her with as she lay dying. Katniss had... Katniss had sung the girl a farewell lullaby, and not let her death in the arena be ugly, or lonely, or in vain... but beautiful and meaningful. Katniss had not left the girl's side until... until she was sure that Rue was shown love and respect for her sacrifice. Until the hovercraft came to take her tiny body away, Katniss stayed with her.

"Here it's safe," Katniss's voice sang on, but her words were empty... meaningless. "Here it's warm."

Katniss had stayed with her, even though it had nothing to do with her survival. In fact, it could have easily proved a hindrance to it. Katniss stayed because... because she loved Rue. Because she was... good.

Peeta wasn't entirely sure how sound this logic was. Surely someone could love and be evil... or selfish... But clearly, this moment with Rue had touched Peeta then, enough that he risked his life by painting it in front of the Game Makers. Perhaps right now, looking at this hollow, lifeless Katniss, he could justify believing that she was good simply because he wanted to. It made it easier to believe that he hadn't been a blind fool every time he risked his life for her, or uttered the words, "I love you" to her.

"Here the daisies guard you from every harm."

Peeta moved towards her on all fours rather clumsily, almost as a child would do. After all, they were still children - not yet 18, either of them. He moved slowly, and by the time he was close enough to touch her, she had gotten through another few lines of the song.

"Here your dreams are sweet, and... tomorrow brings them true... Here is the place where... I... love you."

Peeta reached out a shaky hand to her, intending only to touch her arm or her hand at most, but he found it travelling, as if of its own accord, to her face. He brushed her cheek as lightly and delicately as he could manage, not wanting to scare her.

It didn't work, her song stopped dead, and she threw his hand away. She was positioned between the wall, the bed, and a dresser, and he realized in the second it took her to throw his hand off, that her only route of escape was through him. She might kill him after all.

Peeta braced himself, closed his eyes even, ready for the worst. After a moment of silence, what he heard broke his heart.

A whimper.

He opened his eyes and found himself staring into the back of Katniss's head. Her entire body was shaking, and she was pawing uselessly at the wall, as if trying to dig further into it. It was only then the he saw the blood smeared down her fingers, and caked underneath her nails. He took a closer look at the wall behind her and saw bloody scratches interrupting the calm pattern of the Capitol wallpaper.

"Katniss!"

Without thinking, he grabbed her hand to try to take a closer look at the damage she had done to herself. She jerked away from him, writhing, struggling, and making a series of cries that sounded almost animal with despair. She was so weak in her current state that her struggling did no good, not that Peeta ever would have had trouble restraining her in the past, he just never had reason to.

Through some maneuvering, Peeta was able to plant his back against the wall and steady himself. He used the leverage this position afforded him to turned Katniss so that her back was pressed against his chest. With one hand, he held both her wrists tight to her body, and with the other, he attempted to push the matte of hair back from her forehead.

She was still whimpering and struggling, but also seemed resigned to her fate. Her struggling died down, but she kept trembling.

"What am I doing here?" Peeta thought, kicking himself for not leaving the second he opened the door. He seemed to be doing nothing but rapidly making the situation worse for both of them, but it was too late to just leave now.

He tried his best to calm her. He tried to breathe deeply so that she could match her breathing to his, but she continued to near hyperventilate even as he coaxed her, "Come on Katniss, breathe. Breathe with me."

He tried telling her over and over again, in every soothing tone he could find that it would be okay. He even tried just shushing her gently, but nothing seemed to calm her. After a while, she began to cry, and so did he. Huddled in this strange cubby in Katniss's assigned compartment in the Capitol, Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen could do nothing to comfort each other but ensure that the other wasn't shedding tears alone.

It was a stupid idea, but in the depths of his sorrow, it was the only one that came to him. He had never been much of a singer; he thought he sounded downright funny, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he could remember sitting on Katniss's bed after she fractured her ankle in the Winter before the Quarter Quell. She taught him the lyrics to a few of the songs her father had taught her, and smiled patiently as he stuttered his way through them.

He licked his lips, took a deep breath, and began to sing, quietly, and probably off key, but it didn't matter. Katniss was the only one who would hear, and who knew if she could hear him anyway?

"Deep in the meadow, hidden far away... A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray"

Katniss's shaking came to an abrupt halt. Maybe she was listening after all. Peeta cleared his throat, and continued, absurd as it seemed.

"Forget your woes and let your troubles lay, and when again it's morning, they'll wash away."

Suddenly, this idea seemed silly and childish. Peeta's voice seemed to leave him. What was he hoping to accomplish by singing to her? Maybe it would just dredge up all sorts of memories of Prim and Rue and make everything worse.

"Please...," she voice begged in a tiny, desperate voice. "Don't stop..."

Peeta was dumbfounded. It was working. She was lucid enough to know at least that he was here and he was singing to her. He chanced letting go of her wrists to adjust his position against the wall. His back had begun to ache. Katniss stayed, but wrapped her free arms around herself, trying, Peeta could tell, to make herself smaller.

Peeta hesitantly wrapped his arms around her. This whole thing didn't even seem real. Peeta let his eyes drift out of focus and continued the song.

"Here it's safe, here it's warm... Here the daisies guard you from every harm… Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true..."

Katniss began to mouth the words along with him, barely a whisper escaping her lips, but he could feel her breath calming, syncing with his. He couldn't help but pause before the song's next line, but was so relieved at Katniss's improvement, that he continued on.

"Here is the place where I love you."

Katniss spread her arms out in front of her, spreading her injured fingers idly. He wrapped his big hands around hers, which were surprisingly petite. He had always been amazed at how small Katniss's hands were, seeing as she did such big, amazing things with them. Here, now, engulfed in his large, clumsy hands, they looked more delicate than ever. It didn't help that they were shaking. He put as much concentration as he could spare into keeping his arms steady, so that she would feel secure, rather than trapped, and on they sang, together.

"Here it's safe..."

But why?

"Here it's warm..."

Why was he here?

"Here the daisies guard you from every harm..."

What was he doing?

"Here your dreams are sweet..."

Why had he saved her in the square?

"And tomorrow brings them true..."

Why was he trying to save her now? They were no longer in the arena...

"Here is the place where I love you..."

Wasn't he done owing her yet?

"Here it's safe..."

What else could she take from him?

"Here it's warm..."

Maybe it wasn't about owing her... maybe it was just about keeping her alive...

"Here the daisies guard you from every harm..."

Like she had done with him in the Capitol when he had begged her just to let him kill himself... end it all...

"Here your dreams are sweet..."

Maybe that's what it had always been about...

"And tomorrow brings them true..."

Because Katniss Everdeen was his... ally. No matter what else she wasn't... she was his ally.

"Here is the place where I love you..."

And she always had been.

He realized that both of them had stopped singing. He let his focus, or lack thereof wander from the wall to Katniss's face, and though he could only see it in strained peripheral, he could see that her eyes were closed. She was... sleeping.

Peeta set her hands down gently, and she curled into him. Peeta stared at her for a long time, trying to make peace with his most recent assessment of her. His eye caught something, a small scar just above her eyebrow. A scar she got getting him life-saving medicine in the first games. He traced her brows over to another scar on her left temple, that she got in the Quarter Quell from Beetee's spool of wire clocking her in the side of the head. Just underneath that, he could make out one of a few a burn scars the crept from her face down her neck and he knew must continue all over her body. Even the capitol's make-up couldn't work the magic it would take to erase the traces of the fire mutt she had become in the bombing.

"Here... is the place where I I love you." Peeta whispered, "Real."

Peeta would never be able to put his finger on when it was exactly that he drifted off. It only added to his confusion when he awoke in his own bed, in his own room, in his own house in the Victor's Village of District 12. He must have been out for days if he had truly been transported from the Capitol to District 12. It took a few days by train, and even on the off chance that he was considered important enough to take by Hovercraft it would have take several hours.

Unless... he sat up quickly and placed his hands in a beam of light that was streaming through a crack in the curtains. They were shiny, un-naturally and beautifully shiny. He flexed them, and his fingers seem to ghost, a sort of delayed slow motion image following his shimmering fingers.

He brought his hands to his head and even as he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyelids, shining swirls seems to dance in the blackness behind them. The swirls began to blur, and his eyes began to sting, as tears came to his eyes, and started to sob. Through his sobs, he choked, to no one in particular, "Real or not real... real or not real... real... or not real..."

The only answer was his own sobs.


	9. Coming Home

**CHAPTER 9: Coming Home**

Gale. Alive. And here. It was more than Madge could have hoped or dreamed for... more than she could have ever imagined, not that she had had much of an imagination lately. Since Gale's supposed death 6 months ago, Madge had been a wreck.

The doctors at the Home had told Madge that she had something called, "postpartum depression." This condition had led her to chop off all her hair, and refuse to eat. It led her to be afraid of her own shadow, and not to recognize her own reflection.

The only thing she had not forgotten how to do was care for Maysilee. Even caring for herself had fallen by the wayside, with the slack to be picked up by her saintly roommate Caridee.

Caridee, with her warm smile and freckled face, whose fiance Gentry worked at a butcher shop in her home District, 10. Her mother and father had sent her to this home, despite Gentry's promise to marry her. Calm prayers and a faithful heart guided Caridee through her experience at this wretched place as if she were staying at some sort of resort.

Madge herself, had not faired so well.

She couldn't help but cringe as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror now. Her limp, uneven hair falling just to her shoulders, which Caridee's thin fingers worked tirelessly to untangle and curl, prominent collarbones - too prominent, covered by the sweater that Caridee had lent her, and her dull eyes brought back to life by the practically magical make up that Caridee had applied.

"He is just gonna die when he sees you, don'tcha think?" Caridee chirped optimistically.

Madge winced at her word choice. Tact wasn't her strongest suit. She spoke her mind, though, which Madge respected.

"You look..." Caridee sighed and took a moment to consider her word choice.

"Awful." Madge helped her.

She had looked awful for 6 months, why should today be any different? She wasn't even sure that she believed that Gale was coming. When she had been contacted by the Rebels or the Capitol, or whoever was tracking down family and friends of the war heroes, she had simply refused to believe that Gale was still alive, as they had assured her. How they had even gotten her name was beyond her. Madge was, in fact, quite sure that she had dreamed the whole encounter.

But still, here it was. The day that he was "coming home." Not that he would be staying here with her and Maysilee in this dump. She was certain that someone would be paying for the war hero to stay in some plush compartment somewhere.

Still, her heart was pounding so loud - pumping blood in a way that it hadn't in a long time. No matter how convinced and numb her mind was to the reality that Gale was dead, her foolish heart refused to believe it.

And Maysilee... what would he do when he saw her... his daughter. Their daughter.

"Oh now stop it!" Caridee snatched at Madge's hands as they went to her hair, pulling it across to cover her sullen face.

"Fragile!" Caridee announced suddenly.

"What?" Madge started.

"You look fragile. Like you could use a hero!" Caridee said this as if it were fantastic news. She looked so silly, red hair frazzled here and there, hands on her hips, smiling as if she were some kind of genius.

Madge found herself smiling, an expression she had reserved solely for her daughter until today.

"You sound very happy about that."

"Well, shoot... I am!" Caridee's mood would not be weighed down.

"But why?"

"Cuz, I hear your boy is war hero. He's gonna take one look at you and just wanna hold you so tight!" Caridee grinned and wrapped her arms around Madge's shoulders. Madge's smile warmed.

She took another look at herself in the mirror - her overall appearance had been considerably improved by Caridee's efforts.

Her hair, though still recovering from the hack and slash job she had done to it, had been worked into gentle waves vaguely reminiscent of her once shining curls. Her eyes didn't look as dead and sunken as they had that morning, and her weight loss was hidden well thanks to the sweater and a few pins in her dress.

She was as ready as she ever would be to face whatever showed up on her doorstep that morning.

"I'm takin' River to the market today." Caridee winked, cleaning up the few make-up brushes she had used. "So you will have the place all to yourself when your man arrives. Gentry sent me some money, so I'm gonna buy River a new teddy bear! Do you or Maysilee need anything while I'm out?"

"Uh," Madge paused, running over a mental list in her head. She had been spending money on just the essentials since Maysilee was born, trying to stretch out the last of the money her father had given her. Perhaps she would be able to get some help from Gale- but no. She shouldn't think of the situation with any expectations. That would be foolish.

"No, nothing. Thank you, Caridee. For everything." Madge squeezed Caridee's hand.

A few minutes later, Caridee had gathered up her jacket and her son River and headed out the door. Nothing left to do but wait.

Madge checked for about the 10th time on her daughter, who was taking a nap. Madge had tried to explain to Maysilee a few times that she had a daddy, but Maysilee was too young to understand very well what that meant. Madge hoped that Maysilee wouldn't get shy the way she did around doctors sometimes... that would be so painful for Gale.

Finally, Madge settled herself down on the couch, and waited. This was going to be a long day.

~~~  
>Gale had been so mixed up after things in the Capitol had ended. After the bomb that killed Prim and the assassination of President Coin, Gale had thought he'd be roped in with Haymitch, Peeta, and Katniss and sent back to District 12 labelled as "Damaged Goods."<p>

Instead, he had been transferred to District 2 to work... to live. Coincidentally, District 2 was where Madge had gone with her- their baby. He had asked some of his friends in the new Capitol government to pull a few strings for him and find out where she had been living.

It had taken them a few months to track down the records, at which point they had set up a rendezvous for him without asking his opinion on the subject first. It wasn't that he didn't want to see her, but the idea of seeing Madge, the girl with whom things had never been really clarified and his- their daughter was overwhelming. Nonetheless, they had set a date for him, and he wasn't one to question orders.

When that day finally arrived, Gale found himself at her doorstep once again.

He knocked gently, wringing his hands and waiting for some sort of indication that Madge was home. After a moment, the lock gently clicked, and a girl he barely recognized opened the door a crack.

"Gale," the girl's voice was fragile.

"Madge?"

Gale could hardly believe his eyes. The girl he had admired for her quiet strength and vivacious beauty was gone, replaced by this wisp of a girl, staring at him through troubled eyes. Gale found himself surprised at how he ached at the sight of her, and offered a hand towards her, despite himself.

She politely gave his hand a weak squeeze, and then dropped hers back to her side. The immediate silence seemed to increase the distance between them until he felt like he was back in 13, trying to remember the way she smelled. Suddenly, he did remember. Her scent - wildflowers came rushing back to him and he stepped into her, closing the space between them.

Her eyes widened, but she didn't have time to protest as he pulled her the last step between them and wrapped her in his arms. She felt thin, with bones poking out where soft curves had been before, but he didn't care. No words that either of them could find could explain what needed to be said in this moment, so he held her as tight as he dared, until he felt her arms wrap around him in turn.

He wanted to tell her of the times he thought of her, of the sleepless nights; even of the times he tried to find her when he was stationed in 2. He wanted to tell her how afraid he had been that he would never meet their child-

"Where is-" he stopped short, realizing he didn't know whether he was asking after the safety of a son or daughter, but Madge seemed to understand. She was smiling, tears in her eyes. Their embrace had brought a great deal of colour back into her cheeks, and he could swear that her hair even had a bit of its life back.

"Maysilee."

"Maysilee," Gale repeated. Her name was perfection. He began to tremble in anticipation and fear.

"She's 7 months old," Madge explained quietly as she opened the door. He walked silently into the room and stared at her. She was perfection. Her face so delicate, her little fingers curled tightly around a something strange. Her dark eyelashes rested against her round, rosy cheeks. Though Madge looked frail and gaunt, Maysilee looked healthy, round, beautiful. He looked up at Madge, a question in his eyes, "She's been sleeping for two hours, you can pick her up if you want."

Holding his little sister had not prepared him for this. As he shouldered the small weight of his tiny child, she was so warm and she let out a little yawn. A strange gasp escaped his throat when she nuzzled against him. It is the strangest, most wonderful feeling he has ever experienced. In 13, he thought of Madge frequently, worried silently. Her, he rarely thought of. He knew, of course, but trying not to think about it was much easier. He didn't know if she was a boy or a girl, if she lived or if she didn't make it. The reality of her in his arms was much heavier than her tiny body.

Gale recognized the item Maysilee was clutching. It was his scarf.

Gale looked from his daughter to the woman who had carried her, alone, and felt a wave of confused emotions - guilt, relief, loneliness... he felt completely overwhelmed, and was surprised as he drew breath to hear the shaking in his own voice. Hot tears came to his eyes, and for about the first time in his life, he thought he might faint. The temperature in the room seemed to fluctuate from comfortable to stifling.

Just as his thoughts began to swirl into a mess of light and color, Madge put a steadying hand on his. Was she still stronger than he was, even after all this time, after all she had been through? He searched her face for the answer, and found, in her forgiving, soft smile, what, perhaps, he had been looking for in 2: Peace.

"Would you and Maysilee like to come out to dinner with me?"

He never wanted to leave them again. Ever. Not even just tonight. He never wanted to be apart from his daughter and her mother ever again. He wanted to keep them safe, to never be too far away to protect them if the need arose.

Madge's smile broadened, but her response broke his heart.

"Really?" Her hopeless voice revealed that she perhaps didn't think this could be real.

He carefully shifted Maysilee in his arms so that he had a free hand, and used it to touch Madge's face, softly - in a way that he wasn't sure that he had ever touched it. He tried to manage one of the loving caresses he had seen Peeta use so many times with Katniss on television, and was surprised that the thought didn't bring him any pain.

"Madge... there is- so much has happened, and we do need to talk about that... but right now, I've- I've been in counsels, and hearings, and interviews, and all that. I've been explaining myself for months... My actions. I've been a soldier for so long, tonight I just want to be a man, and I'd like to be a man with a family."

It was the most Gale had ever wanted for someone to understand him.

Madge gave his hand a squeeze and removed it from her cheek, entwining her fingers with his.

"Alright." Her voice sounded a bit neutral, and Gale understood that she was guarding herself. It hurt, but it was understandable. All that mattered at that moment was that she would come with him.

~~~

From the moment Gale thrust into her that night, until the moment they climaxed together, a tangled mess of curling toes and clenched fingers, it was as if Madge was coming back to life. She was more present, and more aware than she had been in months. She found herself breathing in Gale's scent, running her hands through his short cropped hair, tasting him, hearing his voice - feeling it, and all the while with her eyes, taking in every bit of him, memorizing his new scars, remembering his skin, his body.

It had started out at dinner. Madge had been so nervous, but she found herself unable to stop talking, once she started. Talking of Maysilee's birth, and Caridee, and watching the rebellion on TV. Of catching glimpses of a man she swore looked like Gale at the market in District 2. She talked over her devastation at the bombing of District 12, her belief that Gale survived, and even her deep depression at the announcement of his death. She talked more than she had ever talked to anyone about anything, until her voice was raw and sore, and all the while, feelings, real, immediate feelings rushing over her.

One minute, she was laughing about Maysilee's first word, which was, "piano," but she usually pronounced as "Pan-an-o" and the next, she was crying, thinking of the last moments of her home District, and the next she was filled with rage at the Capitol's Homes for Unwed Mothers. She thought Gale would be embarrassed to be seen with her, but instead, he listened, and watched her, intently, and never during their meal did he let go of his- their daughter, even when she puked on him. It occurred to her at some point during the night that she had never seen him so happy - and at the end of her emotional purge, neither had she.

When they returned to his beautiful home in 2, they had out Maysilee down in the new crib that had been delivered and assembled over the course of the afternoon. They had sat up and made small talk, emotionally exhausted from the conversation at dinner. Madge realized that Gale hadn't spoken of his trials and tribulations since they parted ways, but she was unsure of how to ask about it - she was sure it would involved tales of death, and of Katniss - two forces which seemed to go hand in hand, and she didn't have the emotional fortitude to tackle either at the moment.

So she decided to give Gale a place to bury his thoughts - between her thighs seemed like the best solution at the time, perhaps because they had both had a few glasses of wine and were emotionally naked anyway.

Though she had been nervous to let his see her body - not because of the baby, of course, the Capitol had cleaned up that whole mess nicely, knowing that single mothers would be more likely to produce more children for the Games if they were seemed more well-put together, physically, at least, but because of the depression. Her thinness, her paleness, and the few scars she had from half-hearted attempts to bring the feeling back into her life with a razor blade.

Gale, instead had insisted they keep the light on for the whole ordeal, and kissed every scar and bone that he could find to kiss. His body had changed too, he was thinner, covered with new scars, but less so than his emotional scars, which his face could not hide, even as peaceful as he looked as he slide himself in between her legs.

Afterwards, they lay in each others arms. They had turned the lights out so that they could sleep, but instead, after about an hour of silence, Gale started crying. Madge knew what was wrong, and what was right, and that no words would change either of these.

"It will be alright. I've got you now," was all she could say. She whispered it into his hair, softly, over and over again, kissing him on the head, the hands, the shoulders, pretty much wherever she could reach without disturbing him too much. Eventually, he fell into a restless sleep, and she held him tight.

She knew, at that moment, that she would stay with him... Always.


	10. Alone

**CHAPTER 10: Alone**

The smell of fresh baking bread filled the air in Katniss's house in the Victor's Village. Peeta's quiet work seemed loud in comparison to the silence in the kitchen - which felt small, even with just the two of them in it. Katniss drew a deep breath and clenched her jaw before returning to the task at hand - cleaning the cut of deer meat she had brought for the meal. Thanks to Peeta and Haymitch having empty iceboxes, the deer she had killed nearly a month ago hadn't all needed to be cooked into stews or dried into jerky.

Katniss still had her hunting to keep her busy, and her occasional singing. Peeta still baked, and painted. They seemed to spend an incredible amount of energy on doing things to keep themselves busy, perhaps to ignore the fact that between them, they only seemed to have silence. After Peeta had helped her plant the primroses around her house, she had thought he might come to live with her - not to stay in the same bed, of course, they were beyond the ability to return to the safety of that fantasy now, but at least in her mother's old room, or Prim's. She couldn't find the words to tell Peeta how lonely she was.

Anyway it seemed ridiculous. They spent a considerable amount of time together, even though they didn't talk much, and touched each other even less. Meals were often spent together, at least the preparation part.

For tonight's meal they would have a creamy deer meat stew with fresh baked bread - at least if between them they could manage the recipe. Peeta was an excellent baker, but had spent his whole life eating tough cooked squirrel meat. He didn't know any better than her when it came to preparing fancy meals. For some reason though, when they ate dinner with Haymitch, they tried.

Dr. Aurelius had assigned them, for their collective therapy, to have one dinner a week in which the three of them were "sober and present" to talk about the events that brought them to be "wherever they were." Wherever the hell that was supposed to be.

Dr. Aurelius told Katniss that it could be an assessment of her physical place, or her emotional place, or her mental place. Not surprisingly, Peeta did most of the talking - but it was never pretty. Most of the meals turned into extended Games of "real" or "not real" in which Peeta asked such personal or hurtful questions that everyone just ended up silent.

She knew it was not his fault, but after the third week in a row where Peeta couldn't remember whether they had ever had a baby or not, Katniss felt like the "Real or Not Real" game became the "Katniss is a bad person either way" game. Explaining the depth of that lie lead to explaining the marriage... and Peeta seemed to go back and forth on remembering whether or not that was real... which lead to awkward conversation, since Haymitch didn't, well, nobody knew that Katniss and Peeta really had gotten married.

She was the only person in the world who remembered that night, and it made her feel even more alone. She wished she had told Prim, it may have made her happy to know that Katniss would have someone even-

Katniss froze. The thought of her little sister tightened her chest and she had to grip the table to keep from crying out.

Fire seemed to swim in front of her eyes. Through the fire, she could just make out a figure, a girl with blonde hair reaching out towards her. Prim. The knife clattered out of her hand loudly, bringing her back to the reality of the baking bread and the blood-red meat and her home in the Victor's Village in the world where there was no Prim... not anymore.

She tried to bring herself back to her senses. "I am Katniss Everdeen," she whispered to herself. "I am 20 years old. My home is in District 12. My Mother is in District 13, my sister is dead. Haymitch is my neighbor, and Peeta is my hus-" she stopped, unable to say the word out loud in front of him. "My ally. Peeta is my ally."

Suddenly, she realized the quiet sounds that Peeta had been making had ceased, and that the room had in fact, become completely silent. Had he heard her, was that why he stopped?

Katniss suddenly came back full into her senses, hairs on the back of her neck standing up, chills climbing her spine in an icy and all-too-familiar rush. She turned around slowly, though her instinct was to do so quickly and saw Peeta, knelt over the knife that she had dropped, a wild look in his eyes.

He was crouched over the knife, body rigid, hands shaking just inches from the knife's handle.

"Peeta..." Katniss had also grown weary of dealing with this - hijacked Peeta. It would be okay if he had made progress, but he seemed to have plateaued in his progress back to being her Peeta, her ally, her secret husband - her reminder that there was spring, that there was hope.

"Peeta." She tried again, more firmly. "You are Peeta Mellark. Real. You are 20 years old. Real. You live in District 12 in the Victor's Village. Real." Peeta's version of Dr. Aurelius's "find yourself" mantra was a bit more tedious, because you had to say "real" after each sentence. "Haymitch is your neighbor and I am your...," Katniss didn't know what to say. Then, it came to her, like the kiss in the sewers of the Capitol, she would have to do something rash to get through to him. "I'm your wife. Real."

"Not real." Peeta muttered, his voice small and tight, as if coming from somewhere very far away.

"What?"

For some reason, Peeta's rejection of this took her off-guard. Granted she had never told him that their marriage was real before, only that the one that they had planned to stage for the Capitol had been "not real."

"Katniss is a mutt, not real." She continued. "Katniss wants to hurt me. Not real."

"Katniss is not a mutt." he repeated.

At least he wasn't going to challenge that one.

"We were in the Hunger Games. Twice." She waited for him to respond this time.

"Real." He answered.

"Good, Peeta," Katniss stooped to where he crouched and tried to make eye contact with him. His eyes had started to glaze over, which was better than the wild look, but not what Katniss wanted right now.

"Peeta... Peeta... Peeta!" She said to him, not wanting to touch him, but wanting him to look at her, she waved a hand close to his face. His head followed it jerkily until their eyes made contact.

"Peeta, come back to me." She hated saying that. It made her feel helpless, like he might not come back someday... He might stay glossy-eyed and silent forever, and that there would be nothing she could do about it.

"Peeta..." She took a breath and moved her hand towards his. He still hadn't been able to pull his hands away from their hovering point above the knife. She caught one of his, and held it fast, even as he tried to jerk it away. His face looked pained, as if she was touching him with something that burned him, like the fire she was so famous for. She wondered with no amusement what-so-ever if the Capitol used her "Girl on Fire" nickname in Peeta's hijacking to make him believe that she could burn him with just a touch.

"Peeta." She licked her lips, and leaned her head as close to his as she dared, aching to lean her forehead on his. "Peeta, its me. It's Katniss. Your wife."

"Not real," he struggled and attempted to pull away from her.

"Real, Peeta. I'm your wife."

"It's not real! It's not real!" He finally dislodged himself from her grip and fell back away from her. He was shouting. "It's not real! You never wanted to marry me, and you never had to!"

"Peeta, yes! Yes it is! That night, on the Capitol train! The night after our engagement party at President Snow's mansion!" The mention of the site of her sister's murder and the holocaust of the Captiol's children made her sick to her stomach. She had to swallow to keep from vomiting.

"Peeta, you are my husband, real or not real?"

He stared at her, and as the realization of Katniss's question hit him, color flushed back into his face, and tears of awareness came to his eyes. "Real?" he asked her. She knew if she tried to take back her rash reasoning, it would break his heart. Too late to turn back, or pretend he had imagined it in his hijacked state.

"Real, Peeta."

For a moment, everything in the room seemed frozen in place. In the stillness, Katniss could swear that she could have heard Peeta's heart beating, if her own wasn't pounding so damn loud in her ears. Was it a mistake? Should she have let him come back on his own, as she usually did?

"Peeta?"

At the mention of his name, Peeta lunged at her from his sitting position until he was on top of her, as graceless as he had always moved. Katniss had time to get her hand on the kitchen knife before he- kissed her. Her heart fell into her stomach, then jumped back into her throat.

It had been months... years even since they had kissed. She couldn't remember the last time. His lips were firm, but he was trembling all over. He tasted like butter and flour and all the wonderful things he was always covered with from his baking, and his body felt so good pressed against hers that it brought a surge of tingles between her thighs and an ache in the pit of her stomach.

She dropped the knife and threw her arms around him, pulling at the shirt on his back to try to close the impossibly small distance that remained in the cracks between their bodies. His arms too, strong and - not as steady as they used to be - pressing the small of her back, her butt, her thighs into him. Perhaps she wasn't the only one who was lonely. He grew hard, and she could feel his sex pressing into her thigh.

Finally, they broke the kiss, but not without protest from both parties - they might have passed out otherwise, seeing as they had been kissing and rolling around on the floor for longer than they should have been able to hold their breaths.

Still pressed against her, he barely took another breath before asking, "You love me, real or not real?"

Katniss froze, and instead of feeling close to him, she just felt stifled and claustrophobic. She didn't know what to say. Did she love him? Hadn't she chosen him over Gale, or was he just the one who had returned? Was he just the one who hadn't been responsible for her sister's death? She didn't know. They had barely spoken, and, though they practically lived together, she felt more that they were living alongside each other, rather than with one another. She could love him, but at this point, she would have no idea.

She decided that pulling away would send the wrong message, so she tried another approach. She took his face in her hands and stared him directly in the eyes. "Peeta, I..." she faltered, and that was enough for him.

He rose abruptly, knocking her on her ass in the middle of the kitchen floor, looking as helpless and as ridiculous as she felt.

"Peeta!" She shouted.

Peeta said nothing, only yanked his bread out of the oven, threw it on a cooling rack, and stormed out of the kitchen. As he did so, he stopped to slam his fist against the doorway, and let out a pained cry, despite himself. One of the less healthy ways he used sometimes to bring himself back to reality - pain.

"Peeta!"

She felt tears come to her own eyes as she saw the spatter of blood from his hand begin to drip down the door frame. She brought her knees to her chin and closed her eyes.

"I am Katniss Everdeen. I am 20 years old. My home is in District 12. My mother is in District 13. My sister is dead. Haymitch is my neighbor. Peeta is my husband." She took a deep breath, and with her exhale came wild sobs, and through them in broken voice she continued, "I am Katniss Everdeen. I wish I had someone to talk to. I wish I had a friend... Finnick is dead... JoAnna is crazy... Gale's trap is responsible for the death of my little sister... and Madge is dead. I am Katniss Everdeen. I am alone..."

The true depth of the loneliness she felt was only revealed to her in full that night when neither Haymitch nor Peeta showed up to dinner. Katniss sat alone at her table, which she had set for 3, eating overcooked deer meat stew. The silence, which usually didn't do much to unnerve Katniss, seemed to be deafening in its completeness. It wasn't just as if a quiet had fallen over her house - peacefully, but rather that some mysterious force had sucked all the sound from it.

In order to combat the pain and claustrophobia that the silence caused her, Katniss turned on her television. This was incredibly rare, but she wanted some sound, some whisper of human voices so she could remember that she wasn't the only one living in the whole nation. What she saw - she wasn't sure whether it made her feel worse, or better. The first face she saw on the Capitol's broadcasting network was Gale's.

He looked worse for wear that she remembered, not physically of course. It was apparent from his strong jawline and well fitting clothes that he was being well cared for, and of course, he shone like a polished stone in the make up the capitol had no doubt slathered on him before allowing him on TV.

Katniss knew Gale well enough to recognize the haunted look in his eyes - the one that would always be there; it was not entirely unlike the look she saw in her own eyes in the mirror each morning, or in Haymitch's when he was sober. Despite the fact that Gale was smiling, she could tell it was through gritted teeth and a scarred heart.

"Gale, what are you doing back in the limelight?" Katniss asked him, as if he could answer.

He was sitting in a chair and next to him sat a girl in stylish slate grey dress. They were being interviewed, strangely enough, by Caesar Flickerman. The sight of it actually made Katniss laugh until she got a better look at the girl. Something uncanny about her caught Katniss's voice in her throat. She was sure she hadn't seen her before, she was a slight girl, she looked as if she were recovering from some type of illness - eyes just a bit tired, smile just a bit too tight-lipped. Her arm was linked with Gale's, and for a just one startling moment, Katniss felt a stab of jealousy, but she had no idea whether it was linked to Gale specifically, or just to the obvious intimate bond between them.

The girl nodded politely, and Katniss finally began to tune in to what it was they were talking about, but slowly. She didn't spend much time talking to anyone these days, and it was as if her brain were having trouble keeping up with the cheerful back and forth banter of these Capitol citizens. An election. They were talking about an election.

The girl tucked a stray curl behind her ear to join the mess of golden curls that were tied in a loose updo on her head. She seemed to consider, with her intelligent eyes before letting her peach-pink lips invite the audience to share her thoughts. She, like Peeta, was good with the crowd. Gale looked about as comfortable as Katniss herself ever felt being interviewed.

"It's because of our daughter. That's why Gale and I want to play a big role in the election."

Their daughter? Gale's daughter? Gale has a daughter? Katniss began to hyperventilate.

"When she was born, Gale was fighting alongside the rebels, and I- I felt so powerless to protect my little Maysilee from the unfairness and cruelty of the world. When I heard there was going to be an election to decide the next President of Panem, I realized that I could do something - I could help control the outcome of the election, thereby affecting the world that my- that our daughter would be subjected to. My father, as the mayor of District 12, had to do his best in the face of many limitations placed on him by the Capitol ruler at that time..."

The girl continued, but Katniss couldn't make out the words as they came out of her mouth. Instead, her sensory focus turned to studying Madge. It was Madge, her friend from District 12, who had brought medicine to Gale, who played the piano and wanted to go into the woods... Madge, who she thought was dead. Madge, who she thought that Gale despised... Madge who... had a daughter? Whose daughter did she have?

Katniss struggled to make herself focus, to make herself understand what was being said miles away in what seemed like an entirely different lifetime.

"It's good to see that some of the war heroes from the Rebellion got their happy endings after all." Caeser smiled his off-putting white smile. "After the tragedies that befell Finnick O'Daire - leaving his wife Annie and their son and... of course, the star-crossed lovers from District 12..." The audience in the Capitol let out a collective sigh, and it would have been funny to Katniss that they still cared, maybe if Finnick's name hadn't been mentioned. She saw a brief flash of a blue so brilliant, she knew it could only be the eyes of her friend Finnick in his last moments. She closed her eyes tightly, and tried to block out the onsetting panic and listen to Caeser ramble on about "another set of star-crossed lovers from 12" who were "suffering alongside Katniss and Peeta in silence."

"Is little Maysilee here with you tonight? I'm sure all our friends in the Capitol would just love to see her." Ceaser cooed. Gale nodded tensely, and Madge set a hand on his arm.

"She is, and we'd just love for everyone to meet her." As if she had been waiting fer her cue, a tiny girl, no older than 3 toddled out onto the stage from behind a curtain. She had Gale's hair, and... she had his eyes. She had Seam eyes, like Katniss, like Gale... like her father... Eyes that could only belong to someone from District 12. She was... beautiful.

She made her way to the couch where her mother and father sat, arms linked, seemingly oblivious to the oo's and aw's of the crowds. No sooner had her tiny hands connected with the couch, than had Gale swooped her up into his arms and kissed her on the nose. The crowd went mad. It took them a few minutes to calm down, and all the while, Katniss merely stared, feeling emptier and emptier with each passing second, watching the man whom she had once loved - at least as much as their situation allowed, with his daughter and Madge - whom she had also loved more than she ever knew until she thought she was gone.

When the crowd finally calmed down, Ceasar made note of when the Presidential candidates would be announced. It was to be a special program that would be broadcast all around Panem. Replays would be made available, so that everyone could be part of shaping the world their children would live in. At this, Madge scooped Maysilee into her arms and cradled her, crying in relief that their announcement to be part of the election process seemed successful.

At this, Gale rose, and offered his hand towards Madge, seeming satisfied at the result as well. Katniss's trained eye caught, suddenly, something that she had missed in the confusion she felt at seeing some much of her past displayed in front of her so quickly. A small, plain, metal band on Gale's fourth finger, matching one on the same finger on the same hand as Madge. Katniss knew that this meant something - she had heard that in wealthier Districts, like 1 and 2, and of course, the Capitol, people used rings like these to announce engagement to one another.

It hit her, even harder, as Gale wrapped a protective arm around Madge, and the cameras followed them to the edge of the stage, that Madge and Gale were engaged to be married.

Then Katniss felt completely numb, empty, hollowed out. She didn't feel alone, in fact... she felt nothing at all. In the hollow cavern of her mind, one word echoed endlessly - familiar, but so distant that she couldn't quite grasp at its meaning - election.


	11. Stay With Me

**CHAPTER 11: Stay With Me**

Life had a way of coming in spurts. Peeta could remember a time when he was little when there were five new babies in district 12. Another time when a handful of people all lost their lives to a chest-infection. Now, it felt like everything was suddenly about marriage.

This wasn't exactly true, Peeta told himself, it only seemed like life came in spurts.

Life was confusing enough without thinking about other peoples' plans, lives. It was easier to work on learning the types of bread his father used to make. It was soothing. Knead, fold, turn, knead, fold, turn, pinch, knead, fold, turn, knead, fold, turn, pinch, more flour, knead, fold, turn, pinch. He tried to be thankful that his memories of his family were relatively untouched. It was the memories of the Games that seemed confusing, seemed jagged. His time with the careers in the first Games, had he been friends with them? Did they already know there was something wrong with Katniss? Peeta tried to feel out whether or not this was right.

Katniss was home. He rarely heard her come home, it was more of a sense, a presence in the house. He wondered sometimes if he was just a little paranoid. Katniss was in the kitchen now. Neither of them spoke. There was a soft thump as Katniss set her bag on the table.

"Real or not real, the careers in the first Games knew you were dangerous."

Katniss paused.

"We were all dangerous, Peeta, real."

Knead, fold, turn. It was not exactly the answer he was looking for.

"No, they were scared of _you_. Why?"

Peeta did not look at her. "I got a high training score, an 11, Real. We had the best stylists, Portia and Cinna, Real."

Knead, fold, turn, pinch. Peeta considered this. The score made sense, Peeta had clear memories of Portia and of the chariot ride through the capitol. Knead, fold, turn, pinch. The bread was done and Katniss' answers made sense.

They hadn't talked much since she had told him that they were married. He put the bread onto the baking stone and turned to face her.

He smiled hopefully at her, holding the carefully kneaded bread out.

She was holding up a large, black rabbit. They smiled at each other carefully.

"Rabbit stew?"

"Yeah. Rye?"

"Yeah."

Katniss carefully skinned the rabbit while Peeta cleaned the counter off and started the broth for the stew. They usually prepared dinner in silence, especially lately, but it seemed more comfortable today. Katniss hummed softly as she stirred some large carrots into the stew. The sun was setting behind her in the picture window. Sometimes, he could tell there was no truth in what the Capitol had put into his head. The way the sun danced in her hair and the sound of her beautiful voice made it impossible to think she was anything but human. They sat for dinner at the small table Peeta had set up in the kitchen.

After they had a few bites, Peeta set his silverware down. "Can I ask you something?"

Katniss gave him a strange look. He was always asking questions. She nodded as she stuffed a bite of stew into her mouth.

"Will you tell me about... you told me it was real... tell me about our wedding?"

"Peeta..." she began.

"I've been thinking about it. I think it's real. Why doesn't anybody else know about it?"

Katniss' eyes widened, she swallowed slowly. "It was after our engagement party at President Snow's mansion. We did it on the train on the way home... You said that... that you wanted to remember everything about it," she smiled at the irony. "I didn't want to wear pink-"

"Because your dress was pink," Peeta cut in. His eyes were squeezed shut, and as Katniss mentioned pink, a vivid image of her pink dress in a pile on the floor in her compartment on the train came to him briefly.

Katniss smiled patiently, "My slip was pink. I wasn't wearing my dress anymore."

"That's- why it was on the floor." Peeta supplied, eyes still closed.

"Yes. So you gave me your shirt. You told me..." she trailed off, and took a deep breath. "You told me that you had always hoped that you would bake the bread for our wedding toast. But an Attendant brought us this hard little roll." Her voice began to shake, "We toasted it over the fire with a fork, and we had to switch hands because it was so hot."

He opened his eyes, frustrated that he couldn't feel the flames licking the his hands even as he tried with all his might to recall them. He was surprised to watch a nostalgic smile play across Katniss's lips as she mentioned, "My half got all burned, even black in a few spots. Yours was perfect, golden. You ate my half anyway, without complaining at all..."

Peeta closed his eyes and for just a moment could taste the blackened bits of bread. He also remembered that... that she was crying. Opened his eyes again and looked at her carefully.

"And you... wanted to?"

She sighed, defeated. "I didn't know. But we toasted. I fed you my toast. I ate your toast. You didn't make me."

Katniss tried to pull herself together, keeping her eyes shut tight. Peeta stared at her thoughtfully, seemingly unaffected. When he thought about it, the memory was clear. Realistic. Matte. Peeta closed his eyes too. For a moment the two of them sat at the table, both of them with their eyes closed. Peeta searched his memory for any feelings, digging around where there seemed to be only pictures and emptiness. Katniss was willing the feelings down, she blindly reached out to cram another piece of bread into her mouth and landed on Peeta's hand.

"So why," Peeta asked, not moving his hand, not taking hers, "why doesn't anybody else know about it?"

Katniss felt frustrated. "That was the point, Peeta. It was for us. It wasn't for anyone else. It was so they couldn't take it from us. We never went to the justice building and we never talked about it again. Before we did it you asked," she closed her eyes tightly, "you asked if we would be together, husband and wife, and I said we were allies... And sometimes, I ask myself, real or not real?"

Katniss wished this conversation weren't happening. It seemed like the day had been going so well. There was just so damn much to think about. Gale and Madge and that stupid word she still could not think of the meaning of and a _baby_. She wanted to be happy about Peeta seeming better, but, like many times in the past few years, there were too many things going on in her head. She wondered if her head would ever be clearer. Maybe it would help to think about one thing at a time.

She took a steadying breath and tried to sift through her thoughts and pick one. Peeta, and their secret marriage. How did she feel about it? How did she... when she opened her mouth to answer, instead of saying anything having to do with Peeta, her lips betrayed her.

"Gale is getting married."

_Selfish_. That was the first thing that flashed through Peeta's mind.

"No." Katniss knew she couldn't take back what she had said, and she could see in his eyes that her response was a terrible mistake. This whole thing was a mistake, telling Peeta they were married.

"I meant- there's going to be an...," she paused. What was that damn word, "An election." So much for keeping on one topic. "An election. Did we read about those in school?"

"Are you changing the subject?"

"No, it- I...," Katniss had never been good with words, and this was an especially bad case of her having no clue what to say. "Gale was on TV with... Madge." She choked on her school friend's name. "They were on TV with their... with their daughter, saying they wanted to be a part of the election... to protect... protect..."

Just like that, she found the word she was looking for. "I wanted to protect you."

"So you married me."

"Yes." Her voice trembled, and she bit her lip, hard, trying to steady it.

"That's not why people get married, Katniss."

She tore her hands away, throwing them desperately into the air. " I know that, but I- Peeta... I care about you so much... more than..."

Words failed her. She rose, and the trembling in her voice travelled to her entire body. She dropped a hand to the table to settle herself.

Peeta caught her hand, and brought it to his lips, bringing back to him a vivid memory from the first Games that he and Katniss fought in. In the dark, in the cold, in a rainy cave, he caught her hand, and brought it to his lips. Though he could still see a rain-slick Katniss, starved, wounded, and beautiful, shining with the game makers' torrential blessing, the memory was matte.

"Real," He said, eyes snapping open. His voice was steady, and strong.

"What?" Katniss was choking down her anguish with such effort that she barely heard him, but the conviction in his voice steadied her, just as it always did on the rare occasion it was still there.

"You care about me, more than you can find the words to express. Real."

Katniss's face broke into a grateful smile, and tears soon followed. "Real."

"You married me in secret, because... because you wanted me to know this, no cameras, no crowds, and no Capitol."

"Real!" she jumped on the end of his sentence, and fell back into her chair, wrapping her other hand around his.

Peeta smiled, a bit sadly, but it was a genuine smile.

"That's still not a reason to marry someone."

Katniss tried to pull her hands away, but he held them fast. She was surprised that the emotion that surfaced first was anger.

"So what? What do you want me to do?"

He looked at her, face ambivalent and asked her, "What do you want to do?"

She took a steadying breath, and brought her hands, with his in tow, to her forehead. She rested on their collective hands and closed her eyes. What did she want? What did she want from the boy with the bread - the boy who'd given her everything he had until there was nothing left to give her? Her dandelion in Spring, her ally in the Games, only remaining friend, her only remaining family, Peeta Mellark. What did she want from him?

The words came out, plain, and hopeless. As she said them, it was as if they were the air that was keeping her lungs inflated. She had wanted to say something that made sense. Something strong, and clear. Instead, she squeezed his hands as she had done a million times - for the first time, what felt like a million lifetimes ago, in a chariot, on fire, then on a beach under a pink sky, and again in the capitol, at the end of the rebellion as everything was collapsing; holding on just so he wouldn't slip away - she held his hands, and in a tired and strained voice, she whispered, "Stay with me."

He leaned in, placing his forehead on their hands, and was quite for a long moment. Katniss braced herself for his response, but couldn't bring herself to pull away. He lifted his head so that his lips brushed their interlocked fingers as he responded, "Always."


	12. District Pride

**CHAPTER 12: District Pride**

***** Author's note: From V: Some of you may be wondering why I am reposting this/why you are receiving it as an update. It is because, upon a careful rereading of Mockingjay, I remembered that Portia was executed on Live TV… so, seeing as I feel like we are pushing it by miraculously keeping Madge from having died, I am not going to magically resurrect someone as a plot device… And if I did, no offense to Portia, it would be Cinna or Finnick. On that note, only the ending to this chapter has changed. Please re-read in order for Chapter 14: A Big Day to make sense.**

**From Super Nova: Peeta's brothers are, as he is, named for bread. Where we live, a flat, Scandinavian potato bread called lefse is very popular- thus Leffsa. Ciab is a shortening of Ciabatta bread.**

Gale crept through the woods, his careful footsteps making barely a sound as he approached the fence outside of District 12. As he reached the edge of the treeline, he recognized the spot in the fence where he and Katniss always snuck underneath it. He approached warily, but he needn't have worried. From the silence, he could tell that the power in the fence was off. This was the normal state of things in his home District. This made sense.

How confusing then, when he found himself moving his hand toward it, just to be sure, though he wasn't sure why. He started a bit when he touched the fence and nothing happened.

After a moment of watching his own fingers flex around the links of the fence, he shook himself free of whatever was keeping him entranced and made his way under the fence as gracefully as he could. The town seemed oddly quiet. There was no one around that he could see, and no smoke rose from any chimneys, even though a brisk breeze gave him a chill.

He blew into his hands and rubbed his arms, then moved swiftly to his house, where he thought he would see his mother and younger siblings. Perhaps his mother would have some idea as to why the town seemed to be abandoned.

When he pushed open the door, no one was inside... in fact... nothing was inside at all. The furniture was all gone, along with their personal belongings. He looked around, baffled.

He moved to one of the walls to examine a spot where the paint seemed to be peeling, unsure how a flake of paint could tell him where his family had gone, but determined to start looking somewhere. He touched the wall with his hand, and suddenly, the paint on the walls instantly transformed into ash and began to flake and fall all around him. It stung his eyes and got in his mouth, choking him. He tried to stay calm, though his instinct was to panic, and began to look for a way out, but the door seemed to have disappeared.

As though the innards of his home turning to ash weren't disconcerting enough, suddenly, somewhere far away a single shot rang out. Then, slowly, the distant sounds of gunfire and explosions replaced the silence, muffled as they were through the flaking walls.

Gale began to claw at himself in panic. The ash coated him, caking on his clothes, his skin, and in his nose and throat. It was becoming harder to breathe. When brushing the ash off did nothing to alleviate his situation, he ran over the window, fingers fumbling to get it open, but it wouldn't budge. He even tried to break the glass, but only succeeded in hurting his hand. Through the warped and dirty window, he caught sight of Katniss as she ran into his yard, looking the way she looked in the Hunger Games - wild and deadly. Her bow was at the ready, and he realized that she looked as in danger as she did dangerous.

She had stopped to look at his house, but she didn't seem to see him.

He tried to call out to her, to scream, but ash filled his mouth and no sound came out. As he watched her, helpless, a silver parachute soared across his view and into her hands.

Suddenly, cold sweat broke out all over Gale's body, and he managed to choke out a single, quiet syllable through his mouthful of burning ash, "No."

He tried again to scream for her to drop the parachute and run, but it was no use. The parachute exploded in Katniss's hands and she transformed into a pillar of brilliant flames as blue as the eyes of the boy who managed to stay close to Katniss, destructive as she was, by ensuring that she was the only thing he had to lose - Peeta Mellark. 

As he watched her burn, a strange calm settled over him - certainly not because he took any pleasure in watching her burn; he didn't - but because almost immediately after she became the embodiment of her Capitol nickname, "the Girl on Fire," a misty, soft rain began to fall. Slowly, the fire died, leaving in its wake not a charred Katniss, but a clean and beautiful Madge, holding their daughter Maysilee.

He still could not find his voice, and the ash was burning his skin, but regardless, the sight of his fiance and his daughter relaxed him, as if their presence somehow meant that everything would be alright. He reached his hand out toward his daughter, and softly, it met the pane of glass that divided them. Maysilee reached out her tiny hands towards him.

Gale's eyes fluttered open.

He was not in District 12. He was not in the woods or in his old house that he shared with his mother and siblings. He was in his own bed, in his house, in his new home, District 2.

Sometimes he woke from his dreams screaming, or confused to the point of disorientation, but this morning, he simply felt... out of sorts. He wasn't sweating, or thrashing, or scared... just... what was it that Madge's friend Caridee said sometimes? Perhaps this was what it felt like to "wake up on the wrong side of the bed."

He concentrated hard, studying the texture of the white ceiling, and feeling the cool, soft sheets resting on his body, trying to will himself into the present. Each time he blinked, however, lingering images from his dream swam before his eyes.

A soft noise from his left side was all it took to bring him up to speed rather quickly though, to wash the images from his mind and fill it with new ones. A million synapses firing in his brain all at once, connecting a million dots to tell him that moan came from his fiance, the mother of his child, Madge.

So smoothly and naturally that it almost seemed involuntary, he rolled towards her, his hand finding the curve of her waist, resting there only briefly, and then moving on to find her graceful hands. He interlaced his fingers with hers, and used their joined hands to pull her into him, his hips meeting hers, her shoulders finding their crook in his chest, and her long legs tangling with his. She stirred a bit, and tucked her head near his, cooing a soft, "good morning" before continuing to doze.

The first time he had held her, he had been amazed at how their bodies seemed to fit together perfectly, like the essential components of a delicate snare. There were still days when this was amazing to him. A Merchant girl and a Seam boy, though now, he supposed they were considered a man and woman, who seemed truly, to be made for each other, even after all this time.

His mind drifted absently as he took a deep inhale of the scent of wildflowers from Madge's blonde hair. He thought of the few times he had held Katniss, always feeling like he was trapping, rather than holding her, wrestling the parts that didn't fit into the places that they should, with a result that just didn't quite feel comfortable. With Madge it was so different, so natural.

He stroked Madge's face softly with his free hand, and pulled the mess of hair from her face. He tucked it carefully behind her neck and smiled as he caught sight of one of his favorite spots on Madge's whole body. Just behind her ear, the small patch of skin before her hair began was so soft, and somehow, it seemed to be the place on her body where all the wildflower scent emanated from.

The spot was so delicate and perfect - just like Madge. It also would remind him every day of something that most people probably never knew to start with.

He had been relieved when, despite living in District 2 in the lap of luxury, at least in comparison with how they lived in 12, Madge had not subjected herself to any body alteration or extravagant lifestyle upgrades. District 2 was not nearly as despicable as the Capitol in terms of these things, but the temptation was certainly there, especially with all of the money that Gale's new job, and his stipend for his role the Rebellion from 13 had afforded them.

Granted, he had used a large sum of it to get Madge and his family - his mother and the kids that is - settled and living in District 2, but it was more money than he would have seen in an entire lifetime of living in District 12.

The only modification Madge had allowed herself to indulge in was a tiny tattoo, smack dab in the middle of Gale's secret spot behind her ear. It might have upset him, except that the tattoo read "12." He would never forget the day that she got it - only a few months ago.

He, Madge, and Maysilee had been in one of marketplaces in District 2, shopping for a few things. District 2 had sprawling indoor warehouses and streets of upscale shops where you could shop, but Gale and Madge's favorite market was the street of vendors that sold from little kiosks, or even the backs of carts or trucks. It felt much more like shopping in the Square in District 12, or even a little like the Hob. Sometimes, these street vendors would haggle with you, trade, and they were certainly friendlier than the alternatives.

On this particular trip, they made a special stop at a new coffee vendor to buy some beans. Gale knew very little about the coffee bean selection process. He had never even tasted coffee until the night of the Feast at Madge's house during Katniss's first Games. He had forced himself to develop a taste for it, because Madge loved it and because tea - his usual hot drink of choice - reminded him so much and so painfully of Katniss.

It was their drink, the one they clutched for warmth in tiny metal cups in the frozen wilderness outside of 12 in the late fall and winter and even early spring - mint or nettle or even a good green tea when they could afford it. He couldn't even smell tea without thinking of her... of Katniss Everdeen.

At this coffee vendor, as Madge was sampling a few different roasts to pick out which one to purchase, Maysilee caught sight of a tray of fresh baked cookies that were being sold along with the coffee. There were a few different kinds, hearty looking oatmeal cookies with dried fruits baked into them, dark molasses cookies with white icing, and even lavishly decorated cookies with colorful frosting. Maysilee, who was nearly as serious about all matters as he was, had marched up to her father, and asked him, "Daddy, may I please have a cookie?" He had said no.

He could remember, as a child, standing outside of the Mellark Bakery, staring in the windows at the beautifully frosted cakes and cookies, smelling the freshly baked breads - which was as close as he ever got to tasting them until after he could hunt, and trade. He wondered with a pang of envy if Peeta Mellark and his older brothers were already being allowed to frost the indulgent desserts - getting to eat broken bits of cookie, or lick extra frosting off of spoons. Not getting to indulge in such luxuries had taught him more than simply being given cookies when he wanted them ever would.

He wouldn't raise his daughter like the Mellarks, or any other Merchant's children for that matter. At least that was what he told Madge when later, she drilled him about why he hadn't let their daughter have one of the cookies. Though Maysilee had accepted her father's answer without protest, she had asked her mother later, "Why not?"

Madge was furious.

"You don't want her to end up like a Merchant's kid, what, like me?"

"No, you're not... you're different."

"Then, Peeta," she was fuming, "What's wrong with how he turned out?"

It became clear that they would not see eye to eye on this, so Gale collected his thoughts, and finally was able to put his argument into a phrase that made sense - a phrase that he was proud of, since words were not his strong point.

"I just- don't want to forget where I'm from."

As proud as he was of his ability to turn a phrase for once in his life, Madge could turn hers even better.

"Where _we're_ from."

With that, she turned on her heel and stomped out the door. Gale spent the evening worrying that he had chased her away forever, realizing that he may have some issues about Madge leaving that stemmed from the way they had left things before the Quarter Quell. He eventually lay down in their bed and waited, and late into the night, she finally returned.

They kissed their apologies and went to sleep.

The next morning, when he rolled over to awaken her with a kiss to her secret spot, he saw it. The tattoo declaring that Madge Undersee had enough District pride for their home, District 12, that she wanted it permanently displayed on her skin. This spot however, few had ever seen. Even when Madge's hair was up, usually some of it concealed this spot, as if it existed just for him - for them, so that they would never forget where it was they came from, but also, where it was their daughter came from, and where she didn't.

Maysilee was born in District 2. She would never know District 12 the way that Gale and Madge did, and when Gale thought of the starving, dirty children in 12, he realized that may be for the better.

He leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on the tattoo. This was a morning ritual of sorts, and it meant that it was time to wake up. Gale was always up before Madge. Years of waking up early to hunt, then to mine, and then his strict schedule in District 13 ensured that he was up by 7 a.m. everyday, even on days when he and Madge had nothing going on, like today.

Madge, however, loved to sleep in, and spend time in bed.

When she and Maysilee first moved in, he had gone with her to pick out a new bed. His was too small to share with her on a permanent basis, and it quickly became obvious that sleeping separately was just not going to happen. He and Madge spent hours in a giant furniture store in District 2 trying out mattresses and bed frames in different combinations before she had picked out one, and satisfied, declared that it was theirs. It was the first thing that they ever bought together.

The day after they brought it home, he and Madge had spent literally most of their day in bed, sleeping, having sex, lazing about, touching each other, talking. It had been a wonderful day, but the day after that, Gale spent in frenzy of activity, because he felt so antsy from the day before.

In response to his kiss, Madge rolled over in his arms and nuzzled her lips up to his neck.

"5 more minutes."

"You can sleep all day if you want," he teased her. "I'm getting up." 

"Nope," she smiled, and wrapped her arms around him in a way that made it difficult for him to move. "Now I've got you trapped." 

"Oh really?" he broke free of her embrace and rolled on top of her, meeting her protests with kisses until the idea of getting up really didn't seem so appealing after all. He began to ache for her, and he pressed his body against hers. Her giggles changed tone, to soft moans, and he slid a hand up her thigh, finding her already wet for him.

"What are you guys doing?" a small voice interrupted them, and Gale leapt off of Madge, whipping around to see his daughter standing in the doorway to their bedroom. She was rubbing sleep from her eyes, nightgown drooping off one shoulder, dark hair messy around her impossibly tiny neck. Gale found his mouth rather dry when he tried to form words of explanation to his daughter. 

"Daddy was just tickling me," Madge recovered so quickly. She was so much better at speaking in a way that Maysilee could understand. Gale found himself tongue-tied when talking to Maysilee, or just plain saying completely the wrong thing. Once, in the District 2 Marketplace, Maysilee asked about a pregnant woman,

"What's in her tummy?"

Madge had picked Maysilee up, and in an incredibly whimsical voice, as if telling Maysilee about some fantastical magic trick, told her that the woman was going to have a baby. Maysilee asked how the baby got there, and Gale answered her, "Sex."

He would never forget the look on Madge's face, first shock, and then disapproval darkened her soft features. Gale had thought it was funny, Madge treating his statement of truth like a dirty word, until later when Maysilee asked a shopkeeper what sex was. Then he began to understand why Madge was so angry about his comment.

However, in this case, Maysilee seemed to accept Madge's tickling explanation with no further comment. She simply cocked her tiny head, over-large grey eyes finding her target - him, her father. She wound up a bit, then dashed forward and launched herself onto Madge and Gale's giant bed.

Gale helped haul her up onto the bed when she missed her mark a bit, and held her tight to his chest. There were still days when the dangers of the world seemed imminent, and holding Maysilee gave him a panic attack, almost as much as letting her go did. He, like Madge, felt so helpless to protect her from everything, seen and unseen - and this was without ever having to face the reaping. He marveled for a moment at his own mother's strength at facing this not just once, but 7 times, and with his name being in so many times. It might have been enough to drive him completely insane.

Maysilee pulled away from her father's protective embrace.

"What's for breakfast, mommy?" 

Madge, who had risen to a sitting position, met Gale's eyes with a playful, warm smile. "Well," she began, "I was hoping I could convince your father here to make some of his famous oatmeal pancakes." 

Maysilee's eyes lit up in a way that ensured that Gale would be making pancakes for breakfast, because they just looked too hopeful to refuse.

"Why don't you go into the kitchen and we'll be right behind you?" Madge offered to Maysilee. Maysilee, enjoying Madge's phrasing, like there may be something she could do to help in the breakfast making process, scampered off to the kitchen and began banging around looking for, Gale wasn't sure what - mixing bowls or something. She was a smart girl. She wouldn't be pulling out one hundred and one things that he didn't need. Still, it wasn't a great idea to leave her unsupervised for too long. 

As Gale moved to get out of bed, Madge caught his hand, and his eye. He thought perhaps that she wanted a bit more "tickling," but as he took a closer look at her face, he could tell that something was wrong. She looked a little pale, and her eyebrows were poised in a concerned frown. 

"You were dreaming." 

"Yes." 

"You... you called out for Katniss." 

Gale could say nothing. So he had. He tried to form words of apology, but none came. He wasn't sure how to explain himself to Madge without making things sound worse. Maybe if he just acknowledged it and moved on, she would assume that he had nothing to hide. 

"Yes. She was... in my dream," He hated this, feeling so inarticulate, so inadequate to voice the way that thinking about Katniss made him feel. Not longing, not love certainly, but panic. Fear. Resentment - No, nothing positive to be felt about Katniss Everdeen. Not anymore. 

He thought about this after breakfast, as he leaned on the railing of the porch. A soft rain had begun to fall, and the sound of it calmed Gale, cooling some of the morning heatedness between him and Madge. Needless to say, admitting to dreaming about Katniss hadn't alleviated Madge's concern, nor had making an amazing breakfast for her and Maysilee. Though Maysilee had been thrilled - hot chocolate, juice, pancakes, and berries with real maple syrup. 

Gale took a sip of his coffee and sighed. Madge had told him once that building a life together was different than just staying alive. By "different" he was pretty sure she mean harder. He let his mind wander, and was surprised to find himself wondering how Katniss and Peeta were faring in 12. 

Had they seen Madge and him on television the other night? Did they do mundane things like watch television or were they too busy trying to rebuild Peeta's memories from the ground up? Had Katniss remained in the catatonic state that she had sunken into after President Coin's assassination in the Captiol? He couldn't stand it. Why couldn't he get Katniss off his mind, and why did the thought of her leave him feeling so agitated and bitter? 

He was interrupted in his brooding by Madge, placing a hand on his shoulder. He spun around, startled. He really must be out of it if he hadn't heard her footsteps approaching - the boards on their porch were creaky and old. He tried to mask his inner turmoil with a calm face, but he could tell he was failing, because Madge didn't look angry, or apologetic. She looked concerned. 

She clutched her sweater tightly around her shoulders, commenting weakly that Maysilee was inside coloring, and Gale realized that it must be chilly on the porch. He was still shirtless, wearing only pajama bottoms, but he tended to run a bit hot, and Madge a bit cold, so he opened his arms to her. It would feel good to hold her right now.

Madge however, shook her head slightly. Was she rejecting him? He tilted his head, trying not to let hurt show on his face, when he noticed that she was pointing to their porch swing, which was just a little more removed, and a little more comfortable for a long embrace. 

Gale smiled, shaking the doubt from his mind, and sat down on the swing, scooting back against one of the armrests so that Madge could settle in front of him, and lean back on his chest. She began to try to apologize, but he shushed her. Enough had been said for a while. She had come out here to be with him, she was not abandoning him, and so no apologies were needed. 

She was dressed in her nightgown and a sweater, no bra, and no panties. He knew this because he had watched her dress, and so when he slipped his arms around her, one crawling up her nightdress to cup one of her breasts and the other finding its resting place between her legs, she gave a small gasp, which he stifled with a kiss. 

He massaged her nipples and used his fingers to stroke her, inside and out until she was wet and gasping. He loved to explore her, smell her, taste her. He loved everything about her, truly. He loved her. As he used his fingers to coax from her the most intimate and delicious sounds, she began to move her hips just slightly against him, and he know that she was close to climaxing.

He rubbed her clitoris up and down with his thumb, steadily increasing pace and pressure until she arched and swelled against him, and finally let out a small, pleasured cry. He could feel her muscles tensing, trying to pull him into her, and so he thrust his fingers inside her, holding them there until he could feel her heartbeat slow from where his fingers were inside her. Her body relaxed, and he held her there in silence for a long time.

The rain stopped, and only the occasional drips and drops from rooftops and treetops interrupted their intimate and complete silence. Gale swallowed hard, jaw tensing as he fought the urge to stay silent, to avoid saying the words he said everyday to their daughter, but never to Madge. On the one hand, he assumed she knew, but on the other, it was never safe to assume anything. The last time he had said these words to a girl, it had ended in bitter disappointment, but Madge was not that girl. She was different - which, as in the case of building a life versus surviving, was synonymous with "harder" was also synonymous with "better."

"I love you."

Madge's body tensed, and for just a moment, she was quiet. Then she responded, in a voice quivering with tears, "I love you too, Gale."

This moment would have been perfect, as perfect as the first time he held Maysilee in his arms, if it weren't for the interruption of a car door slamming shut in shocking proximity. There was a car in their driveway? How long had it been there?

Madge and Gale rose in surprise and moved to the other end of the porch to see who had arrived to silently, and so unexpectedly. The couple walking up their driveway was enough to stop both of them in their tracks. The juxtaposition, as well as the implications were staggering - Johanna Mason was marching up their driveway, alongside Annie Odair, whose step was inevitably a bit less deliberate, but still strong. On her hip was perched her son, whom Gale had never met, but he knew to be named "Fin" for his father.

Johanna looked better than the last time that Gale had seen her, still stick thin and shaved in the Capitol, dealing with the fallout of her breakdown before the end of the war. This of course, had been a few years ago. Some of her strength had returned to her, made plain by the muscles that adorned her lean frame, and some of the insanity had left her wide set brown eyes - or at least quieted. She wore long dark pants and a flattering black top. She looked... good, healthy. Something else... something truly different from the way she was in 13, and even before that, during the Quarter Quell.

Annie, on the other hand, looked as fragile as ever, except, Gale realized, in her eyes. Her sea green eyes had some lucidity to them. She looked aware, present, and serious. Her long dark hair floated around her head in the breeze, and spilled over her bony shoulders. She was dressed in a flowing summer dress, and took meandering steps down their driveway towards the house.

Johanna wrapped an arm around Annie's back to steady her, catching her elbow with ease, without casting even a glance in her direction. Both women seemed to be completely focused on Gale and Madge. Johanna and Annie, in fact, looked so beautiful, so powerful, and so unforgiving, that Gale couldn't even imagine what it was they wanted from his family, or why they were here. All he knew for certain, as he wrapped an arm protectively around Madge, was that it couldn't be good.


	13. Alive

CHAPTER 13: Alive

The first thing Peeta registered when he woke was the smell of some type of biscuit. Peeta knew a lot about bread, but even so, it was difficult to place the specific scent. Usually, the smell of any type of bread brought vivid memories - where he had been when he first tried it, what it had tasted like, his first successful batch or his most recent unsatisfactory attempt. Many times, it would bring up memories of his family, his brothers or his parents. This smell brought an empty, young feeling; he had nothing to tie it to. For a moment, he pondered the possibility that the Capitol's poison had inadvertently ruined some of his childhood memories.

He took another deep breath as he sat up, and finally opened his eyes. Relief set in as he realized his position on the couch in Katniss's sitting room, the daylight streaming in, and recalled the events of last night's dinner:

_Married. Real. Stay with me. Always_.

Blearily, he judged these to be positive developments. He could see the sun streaming in through the windows, clean and clear. It was going to be a beautiful day. His mind turned back to the biscuit smell. Unwilling to waste the time and effort it would take to think through the breads of each district or to imagine the front of the late Mellark Bakery, Peeta sought out the source of the rich earthy scent. When he smelled it again, he felt that same feeling- youth. Youngness. Childhood. Longing? 

When he saw the bread, it clicked. Of all of the things he had tasted in his life, all the fresh and stale bread, from each district, from the Capitol, from his family's store, he had never had these. Peeta had smelled, but never tasted, the biscuits made from grain rations- the kind Katniss had eaten her whole life in the Seam. He came to the realization, watching her cook the squat, dark biscuits in a pan, that he had not been so young at all the last time he'd smelled Seam biscuits - 16. It felt like an entirely different era, an entirely different life.

He had last smelled it the last time he watched Katniss walk home from school. It was the closest he ever got to the Seam. He reveled in the clarity of it all. It made sense. _Real._

He surprised himself when he asked her, "Where did you get that flour?" 

"I had it from before-" Katniss seemed to be fumbling for words. "I dug it out. I wanted to make you breakfast, but I don't know how to use yeast." 

Katniss' face was flushed red, and for all outward appearances, she seemed to be mad at herself that, all the things she could and had done in her life, she had never learned how to bake bread that rose. Peeta's heart rose into his throat as he looked around the kitchen. She had indeed made breakfast. A small dish of berries, 2 glasses of goat milk, and some meat had already been laid out on the table. 

"That's okay," Peeta reassured, "I'm sure they're great. Thank you for making breakfast." Katniss looked into his face, searching it intensely, and seemed to come up with the answer she was looking for. She relaxed and took the last biscuit off the stove. 

Peeta's first seam biscuit was rough and grainy, but he saw how it actually made more sense for seam folk to eat them this way. In reality, the dark seam biscuit was much more nutritional than the fluffy golden ones his family had sold to the other townsfolk and peacekeepers. 

"Peeta?" Katniss asked gingerly. 

Peeta shook himself out of his bread-induced reverie. "Sorry. No, I'm fine. Just thinking about bread," he said with a derisive chuckle. Her shoulders came down and she popped another berry into her mouth. He took her in for a moment, as she methodically enjoyed her breakfast. There had been many times in the past year when he had wondered what was wrong with him that made him love Katniss Everdeen.

If Real or Not Real had taught him anything, it was probably that the truth was even more confusing than the lie. From what he could muster, Gale had been at once completely right, and yet totally wrong about Katniss and her choice of mates. Katniss could have killed Peeta a very long time ago, and everyone's life would have been much less complicated. She didn't.

When he looked at her now, she was as beautiful in his mind as she had been on the first day of school. Her dark chestnut hair tied back in her efficient braid, her slate-gray eyes in the sunlight, her hands, much smaller than most people would imagine but by no means delicate. She had been eating better, he knew, rather than saw, that her form was perfectly curved, strong and soft.

Even her scars were special. They helped Peeta remember, in those dark moments, that Katniss was a normal human - no, not normal. Extraordinary. It seemed to him that each scar told a story of her bravery and selflessness. Though he knew he was unusual, many men would take issue with the incredible patchwork of scars that made up Katniss' skin. But Peeta had always tried not to be a normal boy.

The boys at school had made lewd remarks about "the Everdeen girl." The round girls from town were blonde and blue-eyed. Katniss was different because she fed herself, her dark hair and sharp eyes only set her ahead of the town girls in looks. She was the only _powerful _girl in school. She was the only Seam girl with a figure, the only Seam girl whose breasts were ever a topic of conversation. He thought for a moment what Katniss might have said if she knew the town boys made bets on whether she and Gale were having sex, whether or not it was good, what she did for him. By the time Peeta was reaped, the other boys had already coupled with the merchant girls. Peeta's brothers told him stories about the girls in town. Though he had listened closely, Peeta had tried his entire life not to look at Katniss and the other girls like they did.

Some days, he remembered, before the world had fallen apart, he would daydream of her. Of her soft skin, of her lips, of feeling the perfect curve of her body from top to bottom. His young self had only imagined that he would get the chance to hold her, kiss her, dance with her. Now he had done all those things and more - hell, he had married her.

He could remember, lying in his bed at night, his thoughts would stray to her, but he tried, oh, how he had tried, to keep those thoughts focused on her face - but how old had he been? He had been a teenage boy, so there were nights when his thoughts strayed to what it might be like to hold her against him, to kiss her breasts and run his hands through her hair and to hear her low, throaty voice say his name in the darkness.

Sometimes, after the reaping, she would come to him in a dream. Wearing only flames, wearing only pearls, wearing only scars. Peeta still had these dreams on occasion, but it was easier now. Sometimes.

Peeta shook himself back into the present and took another bite of biscuit, willing himself not to blush. Katniss had a tiny smile on her face. Peeta felt his own face forming into a sad smile as he considered that the merchant boys would never have realized, and he would never get to tell them, that food might be the only thing that could consistently please the most beautiful girl the Seam had ever produced.

Katniss hummed quietly as she finished off another few berries. The light hit her face just so and Peeta realized how strangely _good_ he felt today. He knew that this feeling might not last, that some shiny, terrible memory might sneak in at any moment. That the reality of her soft hair and tiny smile might be replaced by something shiny and sharp.

"How are you today?" Peeta asked her, wondering if she was feeling, as he was, inexplicably good. Katniss looked at him quizzically. "I mean," he tried to explain. "I feel like I'm going to have a really good day... a clear day." Katniss set her biscuit down and stared at him with a question, and just a flicker of hope, in her eyes. He knew his bad days were as hard on her as they were on him, maybe harder. "I thought, maybe if you were feeling okay too, we could do something together? Take a day off from baking and hunting?" 

Katniss, who had until this moment only been focused on getting breakfast to happen, thought about the idea. She frowned to herself. Really, there was no reason for them to bake and hunt every single day. Food was more than abundant. What would she _want _to do if she had some time? What _should_ she do with the rest of this time she'd been given? It was too big a question. It made her feel... not guilty, but responsible maybe - made her think about all those who would never have another day.

What would Prim have done with just one day? Take Lady to the pasture? Help her mother with a patient? Probably she would spend time with Katniss. The thought hit Katniss hard, but she shook it off. What about Rue, what would have she done, if given another day? Katniss had no idea what Rue had liked and disliked. She knew that she worked in an orchard, and that she loved her family... but she didn't know. What would Finnick have done? She was surprised when that answer came to her easily. _Swim with Annie._

"Swim?" she ventured after a long while. The meaning was not lost on Peeta. 

"Okay," he nodded and wiped his hands, "Only, you'll have to finish giving me those swimming lessons, otherwise, it will be a little more like... splashing." Katniss surprised him, by smiling at his lame attempt at a joke. He realized how tight and unnatural her smile looked, and at first worried that he had somehow already ruined this good day, when he realized - there was nothing wrong with her smile, it had just been so very long since she smiled that the muscles in her face were unaccustomed to the effort. 

After the meal was finished and the dishes were done, Katniss and Peeta made their way to the cabin in the woods. Katniss poked fun at Peeta's boots crashing through the wilderness. Peeta carried a pack weighed down by towels and food and Katniss led the way, seeming to enjoy the forest for the trees. They took the long hike mostly in silence, though Katniss told Peeta in short sentences broken apart by long pauses that the lake they were going to was something of a "secret spot" that she and her father visited often when she was young.

As they neared the lake, Katniss slowed, feeling branches, reaching down to the ground. Peeta watched her carefully, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The startled look in her eyes and the sudden swiftness of her movements put Peeta on edge. He didn't know if he was ready to see Katniss the hunter without it triggering some sort of fit or flashback yet.

He looked around carefully, and tried his best to listen, but nothing struck him as out of the ordinary. He was beginning to consider that maybe Katniss had also suffered from flashbacks. Certainly, they would not be as vivid or mind bending as his, but it was quite possible nonetheless. Just as he was opening his mouth to say something, she stopped moving as immediately and entirely as if she had been frozen in the electrical current from one of the Capitol's hovercrafts, though this was obviously not the case.

A quiet "oh," escaped her lips.

"What?" Peeta took a few steps closer to her, and then, tentatively, he reached for her elbow. She was stone still for a moment, but then leaned into him, for support. 

"I haven't been here since... this is where he brought the survivors after..." 

Peeta's eyes widened, he looked around, trying to see the world as Katniss did. He looked carefully at the trees, the leaves on the ground. Nothing.

Not a single sign that nearly one thousand refugees had been in this spot for three days before being airlifted to 13; at least not one that Peeta could see. However, he knew he couldn't see the woods as she did. Katniss seemed to take in every detail.

"I feel like," Katniss said quietly, reaching out for a branch."I should feel something." 

"You don't have to feel anything; the people who were here last are safe now." Peeta watched her face carefully as a strange look of surprise crossed over it. 

"Alive," she said wonderingly. The people who had been here had survived. Gone to live in 13 or another District of their own choosing. Some even returned, like Thom, to District 12, but they'd survived. They were out there, living their lives, moving forward, starting businesses and raising their children. Alive.

Alive; except for one. Except for her sister, Primrose Everdeen. Wordlessly, this personal tragedy was acknowledged, and accepted. Though it didn't make Prim's death less heartfelt, it was easier to bear if they could think about all the others. Peeta offered her his hand and a shy smile. He was a little surprised when she took it, and responded in kind with a gentle squeeze. Linked, they finished the trek to the lake in step together.

By the time they reached the shore, both of them were warm. Sunlight streamed through the treetops, speckled in some places and blazing in others. The overabundant light reflecting off the water, gave everything an almost glowing, soft quality. Though her hand felt hot and sweaty in his, Peeta held on until she gave him a quiet look and a little touch on the arm.

She began to undress.

In her usual fashion, she removed her clothes carelessly - over her head went her shirt, down came her pants, and into the water, smoothly, went Katniss Everdeen in just her underclothes. Scars could not hide her long, well-muscled legs, the strength in her arms and back, the firmness of her bottom, or the roundness of her breasts. Peeta had to remind himself to breathe, as he watched her dive underneath the calm of the lake.

When she resurfaced, Peeta felt more forgiveness for his young self, unable to control his urges when thoughts of Katniss came at night. The sight of her, hair clinging to her face, water glistening off of her chest, and most notably, a smile radiating from her face- she was incredible. With a small start, Peeta could see that her soaking wet undergarments didn't do much to hide some of the nuances of her naked form, things even he had never seen before - her nipples, the darkness of the hair between her legs.

Cold water suddenly seemed very appropriate.

"Are you coming in or what?" Katniss called. 

Arching his eyebrow at her, he unbuttoned his shirt and pants, folded them carefully, and waded into the water in his underclothing. Peeta had only swum the once in his life, during the Quarter Quell, but today, it felt like a good day to learn. The sun was warm, and Katniss floated right into his arms.

Being in the water gave the two reluctant Victors a strange, but welcome, sensation of weightlessness. They floated on their backs, took turns seeing which of them could hold their breath longer, and attempting to launch one another out of the water. Katniss taught Peeta how to bring his arms up and around to propel himself forward in even strokes. He learned quickly and soon they were chasing one another down, fighting lightheartedly. Hours passed like this, enjoying the sunlight, the water and the songs of the birds. Playing, for once, like the children they never had the opportunity to be.

Though he had learned the basics quickly, Katniss was a much stronger swimmer than he was. She was no Finnick Odair, the way he moved as if the water were an extension of his body, rather than something to pushed and pulled through with difficulty, but she could dart around underneath the water, quick as a fish - something she learned it was fun to take advantage of, in fact. She started a game where she would duck under the water and swim around until Peeta lost track of where she was, then pop up and spit a big mouthful of water in his face, or his back, or his shoulder - pretty much whatever was facing her at the time was fair game.

Though he wasn't good at darting around, Peeta Mellark had always been broad chested, and therefore, his lung capacity was nothing to scoff at. He started to catch on to the timing of her game, and soon, he was able to duck down a few seconds after her, popping up right as she did and spitting water at her. When she figured out his angle, it got to be this ridiculous game of chasing one another around, with huge gulps of water in their cheeks trying to spit faster or further to get the other one first. At one point they both popped out of the water, and they looked so ridiculous with their cheeks round with water that they both started laughing and choking on the water, rather than spitting it out.

It was about this time that they realized how chilled and hungry they were getting, so they climbed out to enjoy the picnic they had brought. Peeta readied the meal and Katniss sat on the shore, wrapped snugly in her towel, allowing tiny fish to nibble at her toes.

"Doesn't that hurt?" he asked, sitting beside her, splashing his feet into the water, scaring the tiny fish away. He handed her a cheese bun.

"No, they're just tickling. Hold still, they'll come to you too," she put a hand on his leg and helped him wiggle his feet slightly under the sand. Soon enough, a single tiny fish approached his feet. He resisted the urge to splash out of the water, disconcerted by the strange sucking on his toe. But her hand on his leg and the look of concentration on her face as she shushed him kept him still. Soon, the fish were all around their legs, nibbling and biting.

"What are these things?" Peeta asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Weird, right?" Katniss whispered conspiratorially.

"It's like wearing very hungry socks." Peeta decided aloud. Katniss began to laugh. She leaned back in the sand, one of her long legs flew out of the water and the fish disappeared in a silver flash. Loud, enthusiastic noises Peeta was sure he had never heard bubbled from her mouth - he realized that he was much more familiar with the different types of cries that she was capable of making than her different laughs.

She laughed, and soon Peeta was laughing with her, the both of them laying in the sand, parts of their lunch abandoned in the beach, laughing a little hysterically. Tears streamed down Peeta's cheeks and Katniss held a stitch in her side.

"Peeta," she gasped, choking down more laughter. "Peeta," she insisted, as though his attention had ever left her face. "We're _alive._"

Their laughter subsided slowly as the sun moved toward the West and the light on the beach became dappled through the trees. They spent the rest of the day with their hands clasped together, for the entire walk home and even after, until Katniss headed to bed upstairs.

And that night, as Peeta settled into the guest bedroom in Katniss's house in the Victor's Village, cheeks still warm from the sun of the day, he felt more complete, more fulfilled than he had since he could remember clearly. When thoughts of Katniss smiling, laughing, wet and glowing from the water and the sun crept into his head, Peeta was not ashamed.

Not even when he imagined his own rough hands were hers.


	14. A Big Day

**CHAPTER 14: A Very Big Day**

Madge clutched her cup of coffee tightly, and blew softly at the vapors of heat escaping the surface of the dark, bitter liquid. She tried to pay attention to what Johanna and Annie had come to say, as the four adults sat around their square kitchen table; but she found herself distracted by Finn and Maysilee, as they scribbled with bright colored crayons on the papers Madge had lain out for them when it became clear that this reunion would not be a short one. Maysilee would be four in a matter of months and little Finn was just three. They were the same age, technically.

She recognized his features, though she had never seen his father, the famous Finnick Odair in person - she could see the resemblance. His golden hair and sea green eyes were just like his father's. Even the way he smiled when he showed Maysilee his picture smacked of his father's cheeky nature. She remembered Finnick most clearly from watching him in the Quarter Quell as he had been on of Katniss's allies. He was also a prominent figure in the Rebel's Propos that had featured Gale that she had watched in the Home after Maysilee was born. Unfortunately, the announcement of his death in the rebellion had not later turned out to be incorrect, as had been the case with Gale.

Her eyes travelled to Annie's face, and she found herself just staring, trying to comprehend the pain that this woman had gone through that was not soothed, that never would be, by Finnick's return. Though the timing was probably inappropriate, her fingers found Gale's hand under the table, and she held fast. He squeezed her hand in kind, and she cast a quick glance at him. His face was hard, intense, taking in every word coming from Johanna's rapidly moving lips. Madge willed herself to pay attention.

"So we've had a team of people studying republics. And the consensus seems to be that we need leadership from each district, chosen by each district." Johanna sat straight in her chair. Katniss and Peeta were the only victors Madge had ever met, and Madge wasn't sure whether it was the fact that she knew Johanna was incredibly, irrevocably dangerous, or that she was here in her dining room, being strangely demanding that made her feel so ill at ease with her presence.

"The thing is, everyone's still in recovery mode... from the rebellion," Johanna's voice was loud and abrasive. "They need a little encouragement, a little help. Someone to tell them what to do and how to do it!"

"This isn't District 13, Johanna." Gale smiled ruefully. "We need to have patience, and not force people into things they're not ready to handle."

"Well," Joanna threw back the remainder of her coffee. "We don't have that luxury. This election is happening, whether people feel 'ready' or not." Her tone was impatient, but Madge found Gale's reaction even more startling. He just laughed at her seeming lack of compassion. Madge dropped his hand and went back to clutching her coffee a little too tightly, no longer drawing comfort from the contact between them.

Annie cleared her throat, seeming to sense that the atmosphere in the room was getting a bit strained. "What we're asking is that you two continue to stay involved. We're just starting out small. Voter education. We want everyone to know how to vote, how to decide who to vote for, and what voting means. We're not talking about campaigning for anyone in particular." She turned her sea-green eyes to meet Madge's. "Like you said, on television, we want everyone to have a part in choosing their children's future."

Annie's warmth put Madge at ease. She studied her again, taking in the paleness of her skin, almost transparent in the bright kitchen light. Her thinness, the lines around her eyes. Yes, Annie had suffered, but if she could be strong, so could Madge. She knew, with Annie's words, that, Victors or not, these women were here to implore them to do the right thing. Just as she was about to voice assent, Annie's eyes, which had patiently held her gaze, flicked behind her with a look of concern.

"Oh, Finn! Honey, no!" Annie chastised her son, rising to her feet and moving to where the children sat. Finn had cast aside the sheets of paper and was showing Maysilee how he could scrawl his "letter" in cerulean crayon on the surface of coffee table. Several messy, blue F's adorned their coffee table. Maysilee was giggling, enjoying watching Finn do what she knew to be against the rules. Madge gave Maysilee a sharp look, which instantly abashed the tiny girl.

Annie had just reached Finn and scooped him up when Johanna barked out a laugh, and slapped Gale's shoulder, hard. "Finn seems to have taken a real shine to your kid!" Gale smiled, stiffly, and, as inconspicuously as he could, rubbed his shoulder gingerly. "Can I tell Plutarch you're in?"

Gale couldn't hide his disgust, "Plutarch? This was Plutarch's idea?"

Annie was returning to the table, struggling to remove the crayon from Finn's chubby fingers. "It was Cressida's. Plutarch is just funding it, and supervising, but Cressida will be the program's director."

This seemed to placate Gale, but Madge felt out of the loop as she packed the crayons back into their box with the help of her daughter. "Who is Cressida?"

"Cressida was the director of the Rebel Propos." Gale explained, admiration thick in his voice. "She was a real fighter. She and her crew filmed the entire storming of the Capitol. She was right there with us, in the thick of things." Then, in a quieter voice, he added, "And she managed to live to tell the tale."

A somber silence swept over the table. Madge was just returning with Maysilee in tow, and she sat, self conscious of even the tiniest squeak from her chair interrupting the complete lack of sound. Annie cupped her hands against her ears tightly, as if trying to block out some terrible noise, but this made no sense, since the room was so quiet, they could practically hear each other's heartbeats.

With uncharacteristic gentleness, Johanna reached over and took Annie's wrists in her hands, and pressed her forehead to Annie's. Very quietly, she whispered something to Annie, which, even in the silence, Madge couldn't quite make out. Annie's eyes opened, tear-filled and distant, but she turned her face to look at Johanna, who gave her a small nod. She released her ears, and brought her hands down to rest on the table, flexing them a few times on the way.

Finn toddled up between the two of them. "Ma?" He babbled, "Mamamajamajamamaja." This seemed to bring all of the life back into Annie's features. Color flushed her cheeks, and she let out the breath that she had been holding. Johanna pulled Finn up onto Annie's lap, and Annie wrapped her arms around her son, smelling his hair and giving his cheek a pinch. He giggled, and Annie's eyes brightened with joy. "Mamamamamama," Finn warbled on.

"That's right kiddo." Johanna nodded to Finn in approval, "You take good care of your mom, huh?" She wrapped an arm around Annie's shoulders, gave her a squeeze, and cleared her throat. "Why don't we change the subject for a bit? I haven't been to District 2 since my Victory Tour, and we'd love to take you guys out to dinner, now that we're here. We can talk more about the voting education tour later."

Madge, eager for some breathing room to think over their proposal agreed, "I could cook for you. You guys don't have to take us out. You're our guests, after all."

Johanna laughed again, that barking, loud, unabashed sound. "Gale here tells me you're not too fond of cooking and not too good at it either, so why don't we take our chances hitting the town?" Annie shot Johanna a look, but then returned her attention to being absorbed with her son. Madge felt blindsided. Shocked. Granted, she wasn't a great cook, and she didn't love it - well, she didn't love cooking dinner certainly. It brought back too many memories of caring for her family in District 12. Lunch was easy enough, soup and grilled cheese sandwiches that type of thing. Gale usually made breakfast, but how did Johanna know about any of that?

Her confusion must have been plain on her face, as well as her displeasure, because Johanna went on. "Oh don't be so indignant. He didn't say you were a _bad_ cook. Besides, you're pretty enough that it doesn't matter," she said with an even more unsettling leer.

"Jo, really," Annie chided gently. "We would love to take you to dinner. You're already letting us stay in your home, let's just go have a night out."

Madge nodded to Annie, but could feel her face flushing hot with embarrassment. Gale had been so quiet all morning; was he worried that Madge would figure out that he and Johanna were keeping in touch? Why should that bother her anyway? She looked at him, but he was staring at Finn, trying not to meet her eye - or perhaps, genuinely absorbed in the boy's resemblance to Finnick, who had been his friend in District 13 after all.

"Let us," Gale stammered, seeming to feel the 3 women's eyes on him, "Madge and I, give us a bit of time to get ready if you would." They were still in their pajamas, unshowered, since they had thought that today would be laid back, and uneventful. "You're welcome to watch TV or to more coffee or anything while you're waiting." he added lamely.

Johanna gave him a meaningful look. "I was thinking Annie and I might check out your porch swing." Madge's face grew warmer in an instant, and Annie's eyes flew to Johanna's face, looking incredulous. So they had seen that. Great.

Madge rose and left the room without another word, shaking in anger, embarrassment, and something else... excitement over the idea of the election and the possibility of having a role in it? She wouldn't know until she had a minute alone to let the events of the morning settle. She could hear Johanna's laughter, Annie's scolding, and Gale calling after her, but she didn't care. She slammed and locked the bathroom door and started the water. Gale could shower alone today.

So Madge showered and dressed, avoiding Gale, though he spent some effort trying to catch her eye, her hand, or her attention. By early afternoon, she was in a peach pink summer dress with a tan shrug, a draping necklace, and a pair of boots, ready to spend the day wandering around the shops in District 2 with her daughter, her daughter's father, and two of the handful of surviving Victors from the Hunger Games.

Madge estimated that her day had gotten a lot better, watching Little Finn and Maysilee playing in the toy store, teasing Johanna with perfume at a clothing store, watching Annie model different hats, which all looked beautiful with her round face and flowing hair. She even found a little statuette to put on her piano. Madge was starting to feel that having Annie and Johanna here was not going to be so bad, that Maysilee having a playmate and having other women around would keep her more sane. That is, until Gale and Johanna began to order drinks.

Madge had never known Gale to be much of a drinker, but then again, she had never known Gale. She honestly couldn't tell if he was having fun, or if he and Johanna were having some sort of "macho-off." Annie seemed unconcerned, but then again, Annie herself had had more than few glasses of a pink sparkling wine that was popularly served alongside seafood in District 4. Gale and Johanna threw back flaming shots, specialty brews, and mixed concoctions, all of which reeked like the white liquor that had been the only alcohol available in District 12.

Johanna and Gale were becoming belligerent, slapping each other's backs, guffawing, and swapping all sorts of stories about shenanigans they'd had in "the good old days," stamping out the last of the capitol's forces throughout Panem. Madge realized that she had seen this behavior before, on TV, between the mentor from District 12, Haymitch, and his friend from District 11, Chaff, who was now dead. She even considered bringing this up, but didn't want to risk killing the mood. Even if she was feeling annoyed, everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves.

Toward the end of the evening, as Johanna and Gale were staggering their way over to the bar to order another drink, Annie caught Madge's eye. Madge, who hadn't indulged in a drink, decided to treat herself in a different way, by enjoying a giant dish of delectably rich custard called 'Panna Cotta.' Gale had spent the evening sneaking small spoonfuls from Madge's dish, alternating between stuffing the spoon in his own mouth and veering it toward Maysilee's. Unaccustomed to being spoiled by her father, Maysilee took the first few bites suspiciously, but eventually took to opening her mouth expectantly as every bite came her way.

Madge watched Gale and their daughter, and every trace of annoyance she had felt with Gale over the course of the day vanished, replaced by a warm feeling her chest. This feeling was so satisfying, so filling that she ached. Smiling seemed to be the only way to release the pressure this feeling - to the point where, though Madge had not had a drop to drink, she was grinning as unabashedly as Gale and Johanna.

Even as the entire Undersee-Hawthorne family had attempted to demolish the desert, it was enormous, and nearly half was left. So when Annie caught Madge's eye, she offered her a bite. Annie smiled, and graciously took the spoonful, licking it clean, almost childishly. Annie's eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, and watching her suck on the spoon just made her seem so... young. Perhaps this is why her next words, so serious and self aware, came as such a surprise.

"Johanna is a bit much for you, isn't she?" When Madge didn't answer, Annie continued, "I mean, Gale and Johanna being friends seemed to surprise you." Annie offered the spoon back to Madge.

"Yeah," Madge replied lamely, scooping out another spoonful of her dessert, holding the spoon listlessly, unable to convince herself to take another bite of the rich custard. After a moment, she handed the spoon back to Annie, who took it without complaint.

"They've been writing letters." Annie sucked on the spoon again, letting her words settle in before she added, "It's part of Jo's therapy." She took the spoon from where it hung in her mouth, and held onto it a little too tightly, like she had an inkling that it may crawl away if she set it down. She glanced to Finn, who had nodded off in his high chair.

"Gale never told me. I knew he was friends with the Victors in 13, but we don't talk a lot about the war or after."

"Jo and I don't have to." Annie fiddled with the spoon, and concentrated on the way the candlelight from the table's centerpiece reflected off of its curved surface. "We were both there. Neither of us went to the Capitol. We were watching the broadcasts together... when..." she trailed off, eyebrows knitting together, pain showing in her eyes.

"When they were pronounced dead. Gale... and Finnick... and..." Madge didn't want to go through the list of names. It was painful for her, and she didn't even know them all, like Annie had. "Maysilee was just 5 months old, and..." Madge's eyes flooded with tears at the memory. "I thought that- I'm sorry. My husband came back." The word slipped out without Madge even thinking about it. Husband. She and Gale weren't yet married, and anyway, it was so insensitive to talk about this with Annie.

She was almost certain that she had triggered another fit in Annie, and with not Johanna here to calm her, who knew how bad it would get. When her eyes darted back up to Annie's, however, she was smiling, sadly, "I'm not sorry that Gale came back to you."

Hot tears spilled down Madge's cheeks, and she wiped at them. "Thank you," was all that she could find to say.

"I miss Finnick," said Annie, simply. She was not self-pitying, or resentful. "Every day... but I am so lucky to have little Finn," she reached out and brushed some crumbs off her baby's face, "and Jo... to have anyone. Some people didn't make it through the war with anyone left to call their family, and I have... my family is wonderful." Her voice, usually fragile, quiet, sounding like at any moment it might break was clear and strong. "That is why it is so important to be a part of this election. To help people who have lost everything... who have lost the will to help themselves. The way you and Gale were talking on television the other night... I thought that you understood."

Madge sighed deeply, "I do." She was just reaching out to touch Annie's hand, when her daughter's resonant little voice provided a timely interruption.

"Daddy! Walk nice!" Maysilee ordered, noticing, just before Madge and Annie did, Johanna and Gale stumbling back to the table. Their forward motion seemed to rely greatly on help of their waiter, who was looking worse for wear than he had when their evening had begun. His expression brightened considerably when both Gale and Johanna, who were propped with the help of either one of his shoulders, slapped quite a few dollars into each of his hands. The waiter seemed speechless, so Madge, the most sober one of the lot offered, "Is there a problem?"

The waiter took another look at the wad of bills in either one of his hands, and then shook his head no. "I was just going to offer to call you folks a cab!"

"That would be wonderful, thank you." Madge said, as politely as she could. Then, as if repetition would prove her sincerity, she added, "Thank you."

The cab ride back was precarious. Johanna had her head between her knees, swearing up and down that she wasn't going to throw up as Annie rubbed her back. Gale wasn't in danger of puking, but rather, seemed to be having trouble with the idea that the backseat of the cab was not their bedroom. He kept trying to slip his hands up Madge's dress, and kissed her sloppily on the neck and collarbone, telling her again and again how beautiful she was.

Flattering as this was, Madge had both Finn and Maysilee on her lap, because Annie was otherwise occupied with Johanna. On the bright side, both kids were worn out, and fell asleep fairly early in the ten-minute drive. They missed, thank goodness, the 3 times that the driver had to pull over so that Johanna could open the door and throw up on the street before the ride could continue.

"You would think," she spat between heaves, "Two goes in the damn games, getting tortured by evil government lackies, morphling addiction, hacking apart the last of the stupid capitol with just an axe, I'd be able to hold my damn," another ineffective heave, "liquor." When Annie shushed her, attempting to pull her head back into the car in order to shut the door, Johanna added, with a slur, "It'sh part of my therapy. I'm not supposed to..." the door flew back open, and Johanna threw up a great deal. "Censor myself." She finished, and shut the door, "Okay, 'm done. Drive."

When they finally arrived back at Madge and Gale's home, Madge was exhausted. She and Annie helped Johanna and Gale into the house, with considerable difficulty. Madge and Annie dutifully put their children to bed as Gale and Johanna groaned their regrets, how, without "that one shot" or "that one beer," they would have been fine, on couches in the living room.

Then Annie got her shoulder under Johanna's arm, and Madge did the same. They half helped, half dragged her into the guest room. When they dropped her onto the bed, her lightning fast, Victor-strong arms wrapped around Annie, pulling her down on top of her. Madge blushed as Johanna teased, "Where have you been all my life, beautiful?"

"Jo," Annie cooed, and kissed her forehead. "Go to sleep."

"'nee, you have the best ideas," Johanna mumbled, before losing consciousness. Annie stayed, held in Johanna's arms, squirming only slightly to get into a position more comfortable for sleeping, and seeing Madge's wide eyes, gave her a soft smile and said, "Goodnight." Madge realized abruptly that this was her cue.

"Goodnight, ladies."

Madge returned to the living room to find Gale on all fours, dragging his way toward the hallway that lead to their bedroom. Madge couldn't help laugh. The sound seemed to startle Gale, and he tried to whip around, but just ended up falling flat onto his back with an awkward "oof" sound as the air escaped his lungs.

Madge moved to him, took his hands, and pulled him slowly to his feet. They danced clumsily to their bedroom. Gale was drunkenly humming some tune that Madge wasn't sure whether she should recognize or not. She had never heard him do anything musical before, and, though it was off-key and warbling, it made her smile. Finally, he collapsed onto their bed, and, just like Johanna had done to Annie, used his strong arms to pull her down with him. They flopped onto the bed unceremoniously, and he let out another "oof" sound as her elbow found its way into his chest.

Catching his breath, and squinting to keep her face in focus, he coughed out, "So, Madge, y'wanna be on TV?"

She laughed softly, and brushed his hair back from his face.

"Yep. We're going to be on TV."

This answer seemed satisfactory to him, as he made some silly growling, roaring sound and squished her to him so tightly that it was her to turn to exhale a less-than-attractive "oof" sound. He kissed her, in earnest, for so long, that, in combination with him squeezing the air out of her, it took her a full minute to catch her breath when they finally broke the kiss. He breath tasted terrible, and his whole body smelled like liquor, but she didn't care, especially when, as lucidly as he could manage, he assured her, "I meant it Madge. I meant... what I said."

Confused, Madge tilted her head, studying his face. Trying to imagine what it was that he said that was surfacing in his consciousness at such a strange moment. He laughed and pulled her closer yet, "I love you," he said almost cheerfully, "I really, stupidly, love you."

Madge suddenly appreciated Johanna Mason's arrival, her abrasiveness, and her friendship with Gale. He would have never said this sober, even if he meant it, every minute of every day.

"I love you too," she said quietly, and then gave him a little shove, "now get some sleep."

"Yes, ma'am." Gale gave her a tiny salute, and then rolled the both of them over onto their sides, and promptly passed out. Madge felt sleep creeping into the edges of her consciousness. It had been a very big day.


	15. Heart to Heart

CHAPTER 15: A Heart to Heart

Peeta felt awkward, sitting in the dining room of Haymitch's home in the Victor's Village. He couldn't physically get comfortable. He found himself continuously repositioning himself on his chair, like he just didn't fit or something.

Haymitch had been taking better care of the place since they had returned after the rebellion, though not much. It still smelled, was dingy and dusty, but it was nothing like it used to be - like it was after their first Games, when Peeta made a habit out of bringing Haymitch bread every day to ensure that there was something in the house to eat that wasn't canned.

They had never talked much. It only took a few grumbles from Haymitch and a few attempts at conversation from Peeta to teach them that they couldn't communicate like Katniss and Haymitch could. There would never be any secret language between them, but there was no doubt in Peeta's mind that he loved Haymitch.

The Capitol had never confused him about Haymitch the way they did about Katniss. He had returned from his Hijacking angry at Haymitch, but not confused. He supposed his love for Haymitch was different than his love for Katniss had been - but it was no less unconditional.

He wondered if Haymitch loved him, the way he knew that he loved Katniss. He had watched Haymitch choose her twice during the Games, but both times it had more to do with everything else than it did with actually choosing between Katniss and Peeta. That was Haymitch as the mentor for the District 12 Tributes - smart, calculating, ruthless, and not like he was in the other aspects of his life.

It was more than just saving her life though; Haymitch had tried to be steady and strong for Katniss in 13 after Peeta came back hijacked. Peeta could see Haymitch's fondness of Katniss in the looks he gave her when she was injured, or when he was annoyed that she had done something so... her.

Peeta wondered if Haymitch ever loved him just for being so himself? Did that feeling go away when he ceased to be himself the way he was? When he was hijacked? The doctors told him he would never be the same again... Did that mean Haymitch had at one time loved him, but couldn't anymore, because he was too damaged? And was it the same with Katniss?

As Peeta adjusted his position for what felt like the hundredth time, he decided maybe the trouble with his comfort stemmed from his artificial leg. He had never quite gotten used to it. He lifted it up onto his other leg, crossing them in the cocky style that was one of Caesar Flickerman's signature poses. This did seem to help his lower body; now if he could just figure out what to do with his arms. He struck a few curious poses, first resting his hands on the table, flat, then crossing his arms, and then pulling at a thread that was unraveling at the bottom of his pant leg. Finally, his fidgeting drove Haymitch to break the silence that had been the state of things since Peeta had arrived.

"Alright," Haymitch, who had been content to stare at Peeta through glossy eyes from the other side of the table until exactly this moment, sneered. "Peeta, it's not that it's not..." he searched his vocabulary for a sarcastic enough word "Marvelous to see you and all. It's pretty much my favorite thing," he hiccupped; "When you and Katniss just drop by unannounced..." he gestured limply.

"I know Haymitch." Peeta stopped him, because even though Haymitch was just being Haymitch, today his cutting sarcasm was a bit too much. Haymitch stopped, respectfully. "You want to know why I'm here."

Haymitch gave Peeta a long look over his coffee, which he was enjoying in the fashion to which he was accustomed - spiked. Peeta, instead of collecting his thoughts to start his conversation with Haymitch, found his mind wandering. He wondered if Haymitch would ever stop drinking. They were free from the Capitol, from the Games, from Snow; from Coin... would Haymitch ever stop having pain to drink away?

"Peeta." Haymitch attempted to sound patient, but Peeta knew him too well for his undertone of annoyance to go unnoticed. So Peeta began, without collecting his thoughts, without taking time to construct one of his perfected Peeta conversational epiphanies, without even really knowing what he was about to say in the slightest.

"Katniss and I- we..." he stopped. He somehow kept forgetting that, in the aftermath of his hijacking, it was easy to get tongue-tied. "Uhm. We went to her father's lake. The lake that she and her father visited when she was young. Where they took the refugees after the firebombing of 12, and I started thinking about-"

"Woah, Peeta... it's a little early for that kind of talk isn't it?" Haymitch sniped quietly. He was avoiding Peeta's eyes, staring instead at a thin beam of sunlight that was streaming through a crack in the dark curtains. Dust was drifting through the sunlight, glowing white and disrupting the darkness - which seemed the only company Haymitch was comfortable consistently keeping. "I like a little breakfast when my existentialism."

Peeta had been waiting for an opportunity to present Haymitch with the rolls he had brought, and that seemed like as good a cue as any. He had set a bag of them on the floor by the chair, and took a moment to collect them and take a breath.

The rolls were a type of sweet bread made using grated lemon and orange rind. He had had the bread in the Capitol on the Victory Tour. The rolls were glazed and sticky, and tasted fresh and tangy. The scene alone was enough to make Peeta's mouth water, and Haymitch's too, he noticed as he set the bag on the table.

Haymitch tore open the bag, efficiently, if a little uncoordinated, and bit into one of the rolls. While his mouth was busy chewing, Peeta barreled on, "Something changed between us and... I've been sleeping at her house since then."

Haymitch raised an eyebrow and stuffed another bite of the roll into his mouth. Peeta took a moment to formulate the words to express what he felt, to clarify what he wanted to say. He looked down at his hands and gripped the table, and released it, and gripped it, and released it, methodically.

"I'm falling in love with her."

Haymitch choked.

"But, I don't think it will ever be how it was before, and I don't even think that she-"

Haymitch was still performing a mixture of a coughing, chewing, choking, Heimlich on himself, but all it took was him raising his hand, palm out to signal for Peeta to stop. Peeta stopped. Haymitch managed to swallow after a few more swigs of his spirited coffee. He set it down gingerly, matching the bottom of the mug up perfectly with an old water spot. Haymitch's eyes were trained on the water spot when he began.

"After the Quarter Quell, when Katniss woke up on the hovercraft... She was wandering around with a syringe. She was looking for you, so she could kill you, rather than let the Capitol torture you to death."

A slew of images hit Peeta all at once: the scary, shiny images of Katniss hunting him down in the first arena, the glistening, soft girl he saw splashing in the lake, and the burned, pathetic creature hunched against the wall in the Capitol, singing what she believed to be her Mockingjay swan song. His brain processed these images, and consolidated them to match the scene Haymitch described.

A muttation Katniss stalking the hovercraft, a taste for his blood the only thing keeping her tired feet shuffling from room to room. Breathing her hot breath, trying to sniff Peeta out and finish him off. Suddenly, another image, a benevolent Katniss, bathed in river mist, collapsing to her knees and pulling mud and debris from Peeta's face as he teased her, "Come to finish me off, sweetheart?"

"What?" Haymitch's eyes snapped up from his water spot, despite himself. Peeta had apparently said this out loud. He tried to recover, but it was too late, the trembling had set it. Desperately, he held onto the table with all the strength he could muster, and choked out, "Katniss wanted to kill me, real or not real?"

Haymitch breezed over his question, "When she figured out... that we had left you behind, she nearly clawed my eyes out." He traced a thin scar that started just above his eyebrow and ran in a jagged line down to his chin.

"Did she get you with the syringe?"

"Of course not. We made her drop it... when we explained to her what had happened... that we had... that the Capitol had you," Haymitch was back to counting dust particles in the air. "She went after me with nothing but her fingernails. It took Finnick and a few others to pull her off of me."

Peeta's imagination constructed images of a wild and feral Katniss, complete with talons and dripping sharp teeth crouched on top of Haymitch, tearing his eyes out, and his stomach turned. "Not real." Peeta whispered. After all, Haymitch still had his eyes.

Haymitch finally made eye contact with Peeta, his grey, Seam eyes, so like Katniss's, and so full of pain that would never fully heal. "I said," Haymitch licked his lips. He had released his grip on his coffee, which Peeta found his own eyes dropping to study, "Terrible things to her. Screamed at her. Told her that she would have never gone along with the plan, and she only wanted to save you to defy the Capitol, and she never loved you. I told her she was selfish, and stupid, and she didn't understand."

Peeta's stomach did another flip. So Katniss hadn't ever loved him. He raised his eyes to meet Haymitch's. Haymitch held his gaze, with some difficulty, and continued, "The whole time, she was screaming back... how she did love you, and how you were the brave one, the good one. She screamed herself raw that we should have saved you."

Peeta was becoming confused rather quickly. He couldn't understand what Haymitch was trying to tell him, or why? He tried to stay focused, to keep the images flashing before his eyes from clouding his mind, and halting his perception. He knew Haymitch must have a point, and he just had to hold on to hear it. He gripped the table harder; white knuckled, and planted both feet flat on the floor - if he could only stop shaking.

"She spent the next few weeks banging her head on her hospital table trying to kill herself, drugged, slipping in and out of consciousness, and the whole time... screaming for you."

Peeta felt a stab of guilt, which twisted in his stomach. Of course, she just wanted him to come save her.

"Everyone gave up talking to her. It became clear that without you to protect, she had lost the will to live. It was the only thing that kept her hanging on in that second arena."

Peeta felt hollow, and he ached all over. Maybe it was a mistake to come to Haymitch with matters of the heart. There was a long silence. Haymitch tried a few times to drink his coffee, but gave up, and went back to lining the cup up with the water spot on the table. Just as Peeta was deciding that maybe Haymitch had spoken his peace, Haymitch took a deep breath that seemed like it could be a lead up to more conversation.

"My point, Peeta... is that killing for someone... dying for someone... that's not the kind of love you can sustain. You kids need... something to live for. You know what it's like to die for something... for someone. Both of you. It's a miracle you're still here."

That was it, why Haymitch would never stop drinking his pain away. He had nothing to live for. Peeta realized, the reason he was making progress against his hijacked mind, the reason Katniss had been singing more lately. "Maybe," Peeta's mind struggled to connect the dots, "We don't want it to be... like it was before. Maybe it could be better."

"Right. It could be better." Haymitch said, in a hollow echo of Peeta's words. "If you make it better."

And that was it. It was in their hands now. They could swear up and down that they would kill, would die to protect the other one, but that wasn't what it was about anymore. They could make their lives... their love better. If Katniss loved him back.

"Do you think she... do you think that Katniss loves me?"

"I think she's literally crazy about you," Haymitch laughed, "Love, well that's a different thing entirely." Haymitch observed the somber look that came over Peeta's face and sighed again. "Peeta, listen very carefully to what I'm about to say, I may never be this sober again."

Peeta's eyes flashed up, attentive.

"Did Katniss fake some kisses? You bet she did. Did you strangle her and bruise her windpipe? Yep. That happened too. Did she kiss that Hawthorne boy? She sure did, but I don't see him anywhere around here, do you?" Peeta sat, eyes wide and uttered out that no, he hadn't seen Gale in years, "You and Katniss are the only people in the _world_ who ever question whether or not you love one another. Everyone else sees it, knows it, feels it, experiences it, and quite frankly," He leaned in, with a slightly crazed look in his eyes, "it's a little nauseating."

They were silent again. Haymitch made to tip his flask over his coffee.

"What should I do, Haymitch?"

"Well," he began, abandoning his coffee altogether and drinking directly from the flask, "First off, I'd say, stop asking me what to do."

Peeta breathes deeply and strangely, misses his father and his brothers. Though Peeta's dad may not have saved him from his mother's rolling pin every time, he would give anything to have his dad here today, to give him advice. Or Leffsa, his strong and quiet older brother, whose only weakness was a beautiful merchant girl, even Ciab, who did more chasing than actual romancing would certainly have some advice.

"Leffsa would have told me. Or my dad. But they're..." The words caught in Peeta's throat, but flowed easily out of Haymitch's:

"They're dead, bub. Now all you got is me and the girl, and we're neither of us really any fun to be with, but if you love Katniss, try telling her."

"I don't know if she's ready for that," Peeta reflected quietly.

"Then show her. Do something. I don't know!" Haymitch's patience was waning. From his squinting and scowling it was becoming plain that every second he spent talking to Peeta was a second he spent not getting drunk, and that this was simply unacceptable.

"But-" Peeta wasn't sure what would have come out of his mouth next, since Haymitch cut him off with a string of sputtering profanities. Peeta had thought Haymitch to be either still drunk, hung-over, or somewhere in between - but if this was true, Peeta never wanted to upset Haymitch sober. He was on his feet shoo-ing Peeta out the door in a split second, before he could voice his protest.

He barely managed to mumble a "thank you" before the door was slammed in his face.

Peeta turned his back to the door, and took a deep breath. It was fall, and the leaves had turned almost a month ago. Soon they would die, and fall to the ground, carpeting District 12. Peeta liked fall because of the long sunsets, but it was always hard for Katniss. Too much death and too many memories.

He ruminated over what Haymitch had said as he made his way the ½ mile to the Square, where they had rebuilt some of the shops. District 12 was certainly a still work in progress, and still required a lot of help from the Capitol, but he liked the new shops - a general store that sold groceries, a hardware store, and a small boutique where people could buy clothes and get alterations and tailoring done.

In the grocery store, he bought mulling spices and a few gallons of apple cider. He and his family made mulled cider to sell in the bakery every fall, and, though his mother would have beaten them blue for it, every single one of the Mellark boys - his father included - were guilty of stealing sips here or there.

As he was leaving the shop, the keeper, a soft spoken, silver haired woman who was originally from District 11 stopped Peeta to show him a small corner shelf lined with specialty flours that had shipped in from the Capitol. She knew he was the last surviving Baker in the District and pressed him, "The Capitol bread is fine and all, I just think that there is nothing like fresh-baked homemade bread. You wouldn't consider re-opening your family's shop?"

"I wouldn't know where to start." Peeta laughed, and with that, he was off, back toward the Victor's Village, and Katniss's home that they now shared. It had been several weeks since he had started staying there, and between he and Katniss both sneaking small loads of his belongings into her home, his own house had become all but obsolete.

The funny thing was that they hadn't talked about it. Even though he would catch her eye when she came in with a shirt of his or she would cock an eyebrow at him arriving with an armload of paints, the agreement seemed to be unspoken. They had never discussed the idea of him moving in, it had just sort of happened, naturally. A small smile crossed Peeta's lips and he shifted his armload of groceries.

The summer had been rejuvenating for both of them, but as the days grew cooler, Katniss's nightmares seemed to worsen. Peeta knew this, because his bedroom was just downstairs from hers. At night, he would drift off, only to be roused by Katniss's shrieks and cries. He would lie awake all night listening, his entire body aching, screaming to go to her, but he wasn't certain that it would be safe... that it would be right. Besides, she had her sister's cat, Buttercup, to watch over her, and Peeta was sure that after all that had happened, he would be about as useful to fend off her nightmares as he was.

The long nights were starting to take their toll on both of them. In summer, Katniss woke up earlier than Peeta nearly every day, but now that it was fall, some days she was sleeping in until noon or even after, her body trying its best to fight the impending exhaustion. Peeta, on the other hand, seemed to be getting up earlier and earlier. The dampness in the air made his leg hurt, and it was hard to sleep.

Today, when he arrived home, he knew that Katniss would still be asleep. He thought that waking up to the scent of mulling cider may cheer her up some. It did. Peeta was greeted by a smile when Katniss made her way to the kitchen in the mid-afternoon. They spent the day mulling and jarring a few batches of cider, and Peeta mentioned to Katniss the idea of purchasing some of the different flours from the shop and playing around with a few bread recipes from his parents' shop.

Katniss sipped at cider and participated in the conversation fairly enthusiastically. She smiled as she talked with Peeta about the ambitious idea of re-opening the bakery, but it was impossible not to miss the way her smile lines deepened the bags under eyes, and the effort it took to light up their vacant expression. He was considering bringing it up, but besides her being so tired, the day was overall pleasant, and so it never came up. He was also glad she didn't inquire too much about his morning. For some reason, the idea of telling her he went to Haymitch for a heart to heart was embarrassing.

That night, as he drifted to sleep in the guest bed, he thought that maybe Katniss might sleep through the night. The entire house was saturated with the calming smells of cinnamon, vanilla, nutmeg, cloves, and apples. It had been a relaxing day, and she had been so tired. Surely her exhaustion would win out, and she would get one night of uninterrupted rest. This of course, was too much to ask for.

Around 2:00 in the morning, the screaming began. It started out as a moan, a low, growling, pained sound that, in his half asleep state, Peeta had a hard time recognizing as human. He even thought it might have been Buttercup. As the sound began to grow and change into sobs and screams, he knew it was Katniss. She was calling out the names of her loved ones who were dead, and shrieking other nonsense about parachutes, mutts, mines, and all the while, her voice so filled with agony.

Peeta dug his fingers into the mattress, gripping tight, and shut his eyes tightly, trying to fight the urge to go to her. But why? Why shouldn't he just try? Maybe it would be like the train on the Victory Tour so long ago. Maybe he could help her, protect her, and fend off her nightmares... just for one night. What could it hurt?

Haymitch's words came back to him, "Then show her. Do something. I don't know!"

Is this what he meant? Do something. If he went to Katniss now, would she take it as an act of love? Or would she attack him, or he her? As Peeta was struggling through an assessment of the possible consequences of staying in bed or going to Katniss, something happened that melted every shred of resolve had been holding onto.

In a frightened voice, shaking with tears, she called out for him, "PEETA! Peeta, where are you?"

Her voice was so urgent; Peeta's body reacted before his mind could. He leapt to his feet and bolted up the stairs, surprised by his own reflexes. He threw open the door to Katniss's room and moved to her.

The sound of his entrance, of course, woke her. "Peeta?" she whispered hoarsely to the darkness. Peeta was standing, a foot from the bed, unsure of how to proceed now that his feet has brought him here.

"I'm here."

"I- it was... you were..." she was trembling all over, and her voice was unsteady and confused. Peeta reached out a tentative hand and stroked her cheek as lightly and as carefully as he could manage. Her hands wrapped around his, and she gripped him so hard, that he could feel her nails actually digging into his flesh.

He froze momentarily, expected to go mutt any second, for the room to turn shiny and unfamiliar. Instead, Katniss began to pull him down to her. She scooted over on the bed so that Peeta could sit. He gingerly sat and allowed Katniss to position herself so that she was wrapped underneath one of his arms, head in his lap, arms draped across his legs. She was still trembling uncontrollably.

After about 10 minutes of silence, and stillness, he began to stroke her hair and softly say, "Katniss, it's alright. It's going to be okay." She wasn't inconsolable, she asked a few real or not real questions about how certain people had died, but she accepted his answers, and was snuggled so tightly against him, as if she was trying to become part of him.

He collected her carefully, and lay down in the bed so that he could wrap both arms around her. He even kissed her, her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, and her hands - not her lips. Then, he took her face in his hands and looked into her wide, grey eyes. They were hard to make out in the dark, but she didn't look afraid, or angry. She looked tired.

"I'll stay here all night. I'll be right here okay?" He promised her. She nodded her head and buried her face in his chest. He took deep, steady breaths, and she breathed along with him, until finally, she fell back asleep. Peeta brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, and stared at her face for a long time. He could see in her sleeping face every form of Katniss he had ever known, from 5-year old to fire mutt, and he loved them all. Peeta didn't get any sleep that night, but he kept her nightmares away.

After that night, Peeta stopped sleeping in the guest bedroom.


	16. Worthy

CHAPTER 16: Worthy

It was a brisk autumn day, the first of November, when the shipment came. Peeta had gotten up early, as he had made a habit of doing, and gone into town to meet the Capitol train that would be bringing the remainder of the supplies necessary to get his Mellark Bakery cart off the ground. He had decided, rather than buy a shop in town; he would merely bake out of their home and bring the bread to the square once a day to sell. A Bakery cart was a much more manageable prospect than an entire Bakery, which neither of them had felt they had the know-how, or even the will, to pursue.

The project had been ambitious, but in their efforts, they had bonded in the same way that they had the winter they spent updating her father's game book - normally. Peeta, it turned out, was about as good at building as he was at hunting. Fortunately for him, the same could be said for Katniss. She had fixed every wear and tear in her family's home, major or minor, since she was 11. When it came to building the cart, Peeta had spent nearly a week drafting designs for it, and came up with something simple, rustic, and beautiful. She hadn't been very amused by the name "Star-Crossed Buns," but Peeta thought it was perfect; so she had let it go.

Designing it was one thing; however, after a few blackened fingernails before the frame had even been completed, it became clear that Katniss would have to help him with the construction. At first, she had seen it as a chore. She had gone out into the woods, set snares to do her hunting for her, and hunkered down with hammer and nails to just get the cart over with. As they worked, though, her enthusiasm grew, until finally she was the one pushing for perfection in the details - a more thorough sanding, a darker stain to give the would an aged look, and ordering wheels from District 6 that could withstand the worst weather 12 had to offer.

This day was a triumph for both of them. Except that, as Katniss ran her fingers through the rainbow of garments hanging in the expansive hall closet, she had to close her eyes to steady herself as the pain in her chest became sharper. Closing her eyes didn't do much to erase Cinna though; the clothing was as various in texture as it was in color. She could see his knowing smile, hear his gentle voice, and even smell him. She pressed into the garments and it was almost like his embrace - soft, kind, and safe.

She pressed her lips together, and opened her eyes, willing herself to take a step back and continue the task at hand. She carefully removed the garments from their hangers, and sorted them into two separate piles. One would be taken upstairs and absorbed into her everyday wardrobe, the rest... she wasn't so sure.

With a huff, she mentally kicked herself for not starting this task earlier. For good measure, she mentally kicked Peeta too. He should have pushed her harder, but perhaps he'd known that this would be hard on her. He usually was aware of these things before she was aware of them herself, which sometimes was frustrating, but in this case, maybe it was for the best. The less time she had to try to justify each piece of clothing she wanted to keep, the better.

This was one of a few transformations the house was undergoing in order to facilitate the Bakery. The first was the oven. Peeta used the last of his Victor earnings to buy a convection oven from the Capitol. Though Katniss wasn't sure what a convection oven was, Peeta said that it was the best tool for the job, and she trusted his judgment. It had been a strange moment, when she realized that they were suddenly poor again.

Not destitute, starving, and desperate the way they had been as children, but their Victor's winnings had stopped coming to them after the Rebellion. Katniss didn't mind. She never had liked being paid for being a murderer. She and Peeta, however, didn't work, and so had been living off of the winnings they had saved up - not on purpose, but merely because they had never been able to spend all the money they were sent.

For this reason, Peeta spending the last of his money on the oven was a big deal, or at least he thought so. Katniss didn't care. She could still hunt, and trade, and with the Bakery cart, they would have an honest income, small as it was. No more blood money. This meant more to Katniss than the idea of having to scrape by for a few months while they figured out things with the business.

Peeta had offered to install the Bakery in his own house in the Victor's Village, since it had gone to waste since he moved in with Katniss, but she had protested. The idea of him being a house away, baking, had implications greater than the distance. Sometimes, when Katniss was alone in the woods, she would start to think that Peeta wasn't real. That he was a hallucination, conjured up by her insane, lonely mind, and that he might not be real at all. The logical next thought was that the realization of this would cause him to disappear, and then she would truly be alone.

The days those thoughts came, it was everything she could do not to throw down her bow and run home screaming for him. She would calmly walk the trail home, but by the time she got there, she was usually convinced of her own insanity - convinced that no one would have stayed with her through everything that Peeta had. Still, he was there when she returned, always.

Because of her irrational fear that losing sight of Peeta meant that he might actually disappear, him baking anywhere but their home was out of the question. This was why she was cleaning out the hall closet on the first floor. It was being converted into a pantry for all of the flours, yeasts, and spices necessary for the expanse of recipes Peeta wanted to make - all sorts of exotic flatbreads, fragrant sweet breads, and even, in the future, jams, butters, and meat pies.

The closet where Katniss had locked the ghosts of her past in the form of the beautiful outfits Cinna had made her would become a place for the future. It was good.

Anyway, most of the clothes either no longer fit her or were unsuitable for everyday wear. She had changed; her body had changed. Her buttocks and hips had filled out, her breasts had gotten bigger, and she had even gotten a thin layer of fat around her midsection.

This would upset most women. Katniss had seen the grotesque lengths women went to to stay thin in the Capitol, and even some of the wealthier Districts like 1 and 2. Katniss wasn't horrified by her weight gain, in fact, she was proud. So much of her life had spent starving, that a little extra weight was a luxury she would have never imagined possible. She was still in good shape, and Peeta didn't mind. He said she looked... "more womanly," whatever that meant. The assessment usually came with a kiss on the forehead or a squeeze of her hand, though, so she knew it was positive. The negative side of this was that some of Cinna's work, tailored to fit her like a glove now pulled in weird places, or rode up to compensate for a curve that hadn't been there previously.

The long flowing pants, the frocks, the coats, and most of the things that Katniss actually wore, still fit her. It was just so hard to know what to do with all of the things that didn't. She had tried to imagine donating them, or even selling them. Haymitch teased that, especially since there were no Games anymore, people would pay a great deal to have an outfit that once belonged to the Girl on Fire. The thought of selling Cinna's garments to the kind of person who mourned the end of the Games, of course, made her sick.

Since she never planned on having children, it wouldn't be practical to save the clothes for a daughter, and since Prim was dead, and would never bear children either, then there would be no nieces to inherit it either. She had thought about sending it to Annie, seeing as the wedding dress had fit her so well, and made her so happy, but even that... felt wrong somehow. The closest she had gotten to a good idea was to send it to Rue's family. Her younger sisters would probably just about die having their pick of so many beautiful outfits, but with the ever-present guilt of having survived what Rue did not, Katniss realized that she had no way to get in touch with Rue's family. She didn't know if they still lived in District 11, or if they still lived at all.

No. These clothes were designed to be worn by a young, beautiful, strong, Seam girl.

Peeta too, had clothing to spare. Some of his clothing still fit of course, more than Katniss's anyway. Peeta's problem was different. He had never starved in his youth the way that Katniss had. When he was tortured in the Capitol, he had lost so much weight that, his body never quite recovered, even with the abundance of food they had at their disposal now. Many of his suits merely served as a reminder of a steady boy that used to be, and the broken man who had replaced him.

Katniss sighed, and placed a few more garments in each pile gingerly, when she heard the front door open. Her head snapped to attention as she tried to make out whether the door had been blown open by the wind, which happened in the fall sometimes. She even considered that Haymitch may have stumbled him way over. She knew Peeta was getting his flours shipped in today, but had thought it would take him more time to return.

The trip itself, only ½ mile each way never took long, but she was sure the shipment had caused a stir; all of District 12 seemed to notice when his oven had arrived, mysterious and alluring in a crate stamped with the Capitol seal. However, their assessment of what it might be - a crib - hadn't been as humorous to Katniss as it had been to Peeta. She was just glad that it was him, not her, who had to explain that there would never be a crib shipped to them. Ever.

As Peeta stepped into the dining room, she could hear the slight tell-tale limp that Peeta had had since their first games. It had gotten better, over the years, but Katniss had the feeling it would never disappear completely, and she wasn't sure that she wanted it to. It was part of him, part of the paradigm of sounds that she associated with Peeta - and it was a sound that had remained unchanged, even through the hijacking. It was a small reminder, even when things got hard, that Peeta was still the boy with the bread.

She set down the few garments she was still holding and moved down the hall towards the kitchen to greet him. He was flushed from exertion, and sweating, even though the day was windy, and cool. Pulling the cart of flours back from the Square must have been trying, even as strong as he was. Katniss was surprised he hadn't asked one of the undoubted onlookers to help him pull the cart back. She thought about asking him, but her question caught in her throat.

Peeta's face was strange, and upon seeing her, he just pursed his lips and gave her a small nod to greet her. She had thought he would have been ecstatic, perhaps even that he would twirl her about of pull her out by the hand to show her his cargo. Such incidents were few, far between, and precarious, since they had just begun to trust each other fully again, and Katniss supposed she should tell Peeta how secretly happy it made her when things between them felt like before.

When Peeta had gotten his wood and tools to make the cart, for example, he had come home early in the morning from the square. He had burst in the door, grinning like an idiot and proceeded to point to each piece of wood and explain to Katniss - incorrectly - what each piece of wood had become. She had feigned annoyance, but when she was in the woods, alone, later that day, she had beamed.

"Peeta?" she asked tentatively, hoping his name might snap him out of his silence. Cold sweat broke out over her palms, and for a moment, she was nervous this was some sort of hijacking regression. She bent her knees slightly, readying her legs to carry her upstairs and away from him, if necessary. He took a deep breath, and gave his head a toss, in an attempt to remove the matte of blonde curls that was sticking to his forehead. He was lucid, clearly, but still his only response to her inquiry was to pull out an envelope from his pocket and offer it out to her.

It was torn on the corner; obviously, he had opened and read it.

Katniss didn't have to read it. A chill crawled up her spine, and her breath caught in her throat. It felt like seeing the dead in her dreams, surreal, and far away, but so immediately painful. She swallowed, hard, forcing down the scream that had tried to escape her throat. The graceful, looping letters, announcing that the letter was for "Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark" was familiar to Katniss. Not because she had received many letters, ever, but rather, from years of doing homework alongside this careful handwriting. The letter was from Madge.

Katniss licked her lips, trying to find her voice, and remained frozen. Strangely, her stillness seemed to bring Peeta to action more than her words had. He removed his shoes, and stepped out of them, careful to give Katniss space to process. Finally, after he had removed his jacket and hung it on the hooks by the door, he asked, "How is emptying the closet going?"

"Fine," she spat out, automatically, but his question caught her so off-guard. She had expected him to press the letter on her. Encourage her to read it, tell her what it had said, or even just to say who it was from; her surprise must have been plain on her face, because Peeta answered her unspoken question patiently.

"Katniss, I'm not going to push this on you."

"Why not?" She couldn't figure out his angle. Was something wrong? Was there something he didn't want her to read?

"Because," he sighed and rubbed at his forehead, finally dislodging the curls that were glued to it with sweat, "The wedding's not for a few weeks, so I just don't think we have to make up our minds-"

"Wedding." Katniss cut him off, unable to suppress her incredulous tone. "She invited us to their wedding?"

"Well," Peeta faltered. "Of course she did."

"Well," Katniss was suddenly overcome with burning hatred. Hatred of Madge for looking so perfect on TV, hatred of Gale for disappearing, and hatred of Peeta for not hating them - and hatred of herself for caring. "Good for her then!" She shouted. Using the momentum of her anger to propel herself, she tore past Peeta; she ripped the letter out of his hands, and flew out the door as fast as her still-bare feet would carry her. She ran past the cart of flour, past the fence, past the rock where she and Gale used to meet; feet flying, mind racing, until finally, she stopped, gasping for air. She had been running for at least an hour, but it was as if no time had passed. She was still angry, and the letter in her hand seemed to weigh on her, more than a piece of paper possibly could.

Her head was spinning as she tore the letter out of the envelope. She tossed the envelope aside and clutched the letter in her shaking hands. It took every ounce of concentration she had to make sense of the shaking words, as she read them, and struggled to make them make sense. Her lungs began to burn and she realized she was holding her breath. This was wrong. This was all wrong.

She fell to her hands and knees and stared at the letter as it soaked up moisture from the ground beneath it. The ink began to run, but Katniss was finally able to read:

_Dear Friends,_

_I first have to apologize I haven't written you sooner. I can't say we've been terribly busy, but I haven't been sure what to say. I thought about writing you when Maysilee was born, but things were a little messy at the time. Since then, I guess I have no excuse but that the years have passed quickly. Gale and I have been living in District Two, not in town but out on the edge where the trees are just a little bit like home. With things getting a little more exciting with the upcoming election, we're hoping to add a little bit of stability to our lives. We've decided to get married. We could easily get married here, but neither of us can imagine getting married anywhere but District Twelve. Of course, it would be a private ceremony, very quiet. It would mean so much to me if the two of you would be there for us. I consider the both of you to be good friends and hope that our wedding can bring the four of us together. I know that Gale misses you. Even if you decide you'd rather not be at the wedding, it would be nice to see you, and of course we would love for you to meet Maysilee. We're hoping to arrive in a few weeks. I'll send you a formal wedding invitation when we firm up our dates. I would love to hear back from you before then, just to know how you're both doing._

_Love,_  
><em>Madge.<em>

Before Katniss could really absorb what the letter actually said, she blacked out.

When she came to, so many words were spinning around her cloudy mind. _Maysilee. Madge. Married._ What had she come out here to do? Why was she lying in a pile of leaves and mud in the middle of the woods? She tried to make sense of her surroundings, but her memory of how she got there was... lacking in any detail. She had simply taken off. She tried to focus, to recognize anything - a tree, a rock, anything. Nothing.

She decided to try Dr. Aurelius's game to backtrack and assess where she was, but only one phrase came to mind.  
>My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am twenty years old, and I am lost in the woods.<p>

She sat up, slowly, and tried a different game, one that made her stomach knot and teeth grind. "You are in the arena," she ordered herself, "Take stock of your supplies." She inspected herself; she didn't seem to be injured, except for a few small cuts and scratches on her bare feet and arms. Besides that, she was in bad shape; she had nothing more than pants, a shirt, and a letter to protect her from the elements. Where was she? If she could only figure out where the hell she was.

She took a few steadying breaths and looked around. It was the arena. She had to be in the arena. She began to shake, and panic. She wanted to run. Climb a tree. Hide. Find food. She had no weapons. She had nothing, no one. No allies. She was on her feet. She knew the cameras would be watching her, and she had to seem like she knew what she was doing.

She considered the position of the sun. This was bad. It was late afternoon. It would be getting dark, soon. She had to start a fire... but the other tributes, the Career Pack, they would find her.

"No." she said aloud, as if this would help to convince her. She wasn't in the arena. She couldn't be. She was a Victor and that meant you never had to go back... until you did - like the Quarter Quell, or the Capitol. "NO!" She said louder. She just needed something... a token to show her that this wasn't the arena.

She clenched her fists and heard it crumple. Madge's letter. Madge. Gale. They have a baby. They're getting married in District 12. Yes. My name is Katniss Everdeen, I am 20 years old, and the Rebellion is over. There are no more Hunger Games. I am not in the arena. I am not in the arena. I am not in the arena, but I am lost.

Lost. She had never been lost before. She had thought she knew the entirety of the woods around District 12, but this turned out to be a very foolish assumption to make. Right. So stop being foolish. She took a deep, steadying breath, and willed the trembling in her knees to subside. She found a flat rock to sit on, and pressed her hands to her temples, as if pressure would help her brain sort itself out.

It did help, bringing to the surface a distant memory. Her father had told her once, "If you get lost, Katniss, you should stay put. Stay where you are and I will come and find you." Yes. She needed to stay put... but then what? Her father was dead. If she stayed put, no one would come to look for her. She was on her own.

The light was beginning to wane. She knew that she could start a fire, spend a sleepless night, and perhaps follow her own path of destruction back to District 12 the next morning. Either way, this was going to be much easier in the light of day.

She was just gathering kindling when she heard it. The kindling clacked to the ground unceremoniously as she strained to listen, frozen in place, holding her breath. It was Rue's 4-note song that signaled the end of the work day in the orchards of District 11; it was the signal they used in the arena... But it couldn't be.

Katniss whipped around, searching for the source of the sound. Just as she spotted the bird, small, black and white, and unassuming, an uncanny feeling washed over her. This was like... the beginning of so many dreams that she has had, in which she follows a Mockingjay she knows to be Rue, but wakes up before reaching the destination.

The bird chirped again, and it was unmistakable.

"Rue?" she asked the bird. It cocked its head, and blinked. Of course. This was not a dream. This was real, and this bird was not Rue. It called out to her again, the same four notes, as if waiting for a response. Katniss wasn't sure it would help, but maybe at least, it would help her feel less alone to sing back and forth with this Mockingjay for a while. She licked her lips and whistled out the four notes.

She was aware of pain, aching and instant. The kind of pressure on your chest that never quite lifts away, that makes it hard to breathe; hard to go on living. The bird sang back to her, and together they chorused Rue's beautiful song, overlapping and building until the song had grown into a tune of sorts, broken, and sad, but beautiful - like her, she supposed.

Just when this harmony had started to put her at ease, the Mockingjay took off, into the woods. Without a second thought, Katniss tore after it, opening more cuts in her feet and on her arms, but still she ran.

"RUE!" She called after the bird. "RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUE!"

She could just make out the bird as it moved ahead of her through the forest. A flash of wing here, a melodic call there. Just enough to keep her following, exhilarated and exhausted at the same time. She ran for what felt like a long time, though she knew that, realistically it must only be about 30 minutes.

The bird had lead her to a small clearing of sorts, and now it was dusk, the last few rays of sunshine all but swallowed up by the thick tree cover. Katniss strained her eyes, but couldn't see where the bird had gone. Great. Now she was more lost because she was chasing a bird she was convinced was a little girl for whose death she was responsible.

Suddenly, the energy that had carried her gave out, and exhaustion set in. She leaned on a tree, and was about to slump to the ground when she heard it. The sound of feet, crackling through the underbrush, loud, graceless, and... limping. "PEETA!" she called.

Abruptly, the footsteps stopped.

Peeta's voice came from far away, but not as far as she would have thought, uncertain, but filled with relief, "Katniss? Katniss where are you? I'll come find you."

Katniss was unprepared for her own response to this. Tears, hot and immediate fell from her eyes, and she choked down a sob. Peeta had come for her... even though he was so terrible in the woods, afraid of them even. Even though she had left him without saying a word about where she was going. "Peeta!" Her voice was thick with sobs. She began to cautiously cross the clearing towards the sound of his voice.

"Katniss!" There was more rustling, and a light began to show through the thick of the forest, warm and soft, just enough for Katniss to make out the bearer of the lantern - Peeta, looking scared, but determined, and making his way to her. He had a machete, and was chopping away at the bramble and bushes that made passage through the woods hard.

Good, this was good. If Katniss's path were not obvious enough - though she assumed if Peeta had been able to follow it here, it must have been - they would certainly be able to follow the path that Peeta had slashed to get home.

She found herself moving more quickly, running even to cross the distance between them. He spotted her finally, and his face lit up. He adjusted his direction to move more directly towards her. Through her sobs, she felt herself smiling. Why was she so surprised that he had come for her? She would have come for him. Why then, was it so surprising that he would come for her?

Because she didn't deserve saving.

This thought pulled her up short. She stopped where she was in the clearing, and her stinging, bleeding feet drank up the moisture from the cool grass. She had outlived the good she could do in this world, surely everyone knew that. She dug her toes in, reveling in the feel of the soft mud. No, she realized. Not everyone knew that. Peeta didn't know that. Peeta, in fact, thought the opposite, that there was no limit to the good that Katniss was capable of - and this new life they were sharing, the one full of lake trips, bakery carts, and even friends' weddings was helping her to believe that maybe she could still do good. Maybe she deserved saving after all.

Peeta seemed to let her stopping propel him with even greater momentum. He was tripping all over himself as he finally broke into the clearing which Katniss had about half crossed. She waited for him, patiently as he made his way to her. He reached her, and embraced her for a long moment, his arms steady, and strong, and sweet. Katniss drank in Peeta in all his imperfection - the smell of his sweat, the burn scars on his forehead, and the slight unsteadiness in his stance. She held on, tight, as he lifted her off the ground, squeezing hard.

Finally, he set her down and as he pulled away, she could see his lips start to move, as if to speak. Katniss kissed him, full on the mouth. His lips were salty, and chapped, but had a softness, a kindness to them that was so unmistakably Peeta, that she never wanted to let go, to break the contact between them. She wrapped her arms underneath his and pulled him in tight to her. It was the hunger, the spark in her belly - no, in her very being, the one that had caught her off guard in both arenas. She had thought that this hunger had to do with life and death, but here they were, safe and sound, and there it was. Cloying at her, begging her to get closer to Peeta, to feel him more, taste him more.

She slipped her tongue in his mouth, feeling his soft tongue, tasting his breath, his heat. He opened his mouth, and their heats became one, a fire feeding the hunger that had awakened inside her. She found herself exploring him with her hands, running them through his hair, trailing them down his back, feeling everything - interlocking their fingers, releasing them, and interlocking them again.

How had she forgotten the gentleness, the goodness that was Peeta? In Peeta, there was always the Dandelion in spring. There was always hope. Even for a wretched fire mutt like herself. Finally, she broke the kiss, and let her eyes wander over Peeta's loving face. That was it then, even if he didn't say it; whether he was unready to confess or unready for rejection - she knew that look. Peeta was in love with her again, and she... did she love him?

He put a hand to her cheek, smiling gently. She stared into his eyes, as if imploring them would lead her to an answer. Katniss's hand went to his face, tracing with her hand what she already knew with her eyes, and she felt the smoothness of his cheek, the mottled skin of his scars, and the curve of his lips.

"Peeta, I-"

And that is when she heard the rattling. In a moment of pure reflex and instinct, uncomplicated by thought or feeling, she braced herself by digging her heels into the ground and used all of her might to shove Peeta back. He fell back; face revealing his surprise over her sudden change in behavior. She met his eye, panic rising in her throat when she felt the sting of needle sharp fangs sinking into her ankle. She cried out, and looked down.

The snake had already readied itself for another strike. Katniss propelled herself backwards, away from the creature with all the effort she had left. Then the pain set in. Sharp, throbbing, tingling, like thousands of tiny red-hot needles being repeatedly jammed into her flesh, but somehow without piercing the skin. She moaned, and began to writhe.

"Peeta..." she managed, before another wave of pain made her vomit.

"Katniss!" He rose to his feet, and used his machete to remove the threat of more snake bites in one fell-swoop. He then dropped to his knees next to her, taking shallow breaths and looking extremely upset. "Katniss, what do I do?" He helped her to sit up and pulled up her pant leg to look at the wound. "Katniss," his eyes met hers. "Are you going to die?"

She couldn't answer, because she couldn't say. She hadn't gotten a look at the snake, and may not have been able to identify it anyway. "Your machete," she put her hand out for it, knowing that asking Peeta to cut her would not yield quick results. She took the blade, and, though her arm was shaking, was able to make two intersecting cuts across the bite. Peeta was shocked, so much so that he didn't even get out a protest before she was finished.

"Katniss!" he grabbed her hand that held the machete.

"Suck the poison out." she ordered. This was not the time for discussion.

"W-How do I do that?"

"Suck it out, and spit... It is really important that you spit or you'll get sick too."

The pain had begun to spread up her leg, reaching her upper thigh. She groaned, and slapped her hands to her thigh, squeezing hard to try to impede the circulation. The poison was spreading, even as Peeta obediently sucked and spat from the bite, sending more stabs of pain through her leg.

"Peeta!" Her hands flailed wildly, finding his, and holding fast. This made him panic.

"Katniss," His voice was shaking. "I don't know what to do... Did I get it?"

"I don't know." Katniss hissed through gritted teeth.

"We have to go back." Peeta announced, and scooped Katniss up in his arms. This caused pain so extreme that white flashes of light danced across Katniss's vision.

"No, Peeta..." she found her voice thick and slow, like trying to talk through a mouthful of molasses.

"It's going to be okay Katniss," Peeta told her, though he sounded terrified. "I'm gonna get you back to District 12." Katniss's lips were going numb. She tried to speak, to tell Peeta something she had never had the words to say before... how much she loved him, and how he helped her believe she could forgive herself... how she never regretted that he was the one who returned to 12 and not Gale... but it came out as nonsense. As she slipped into unconsciousness, she found her mind numbing along with her face. One thought, however, penetrated the haze.

_If I die right now, Peeta will never know that I love him..._ and she did love him. She knew it in that moment, just as blackness became her only reality.


	17. Everything You Are

CHAPTER 17: Everything You Are

Peeta could tell Katniss was on edge. Though they both slept better now that they shared a bed, and had shared a few quiet, furtive kisses in the few days since Katniss's recovery from the snakebite, she seemed off. In those few moments when he had believed they would be separated from one another by the heavy veil of death, something in their relationship had shifted. Though it had been comfortable for several months, now it felt warm. Sleeping had indeed been easier. In exchange, however, daytime had become equally difficult.

During the day, Katniss couldn't seem to sit still. She watched him working with hawk-like eyes, perched precariously on the edge of a stool, her fingers tapping and her foot wiggling. Peeta couldn't blame her, in the days since Madge's letter had arrived; they'd received two other pieces of mail. Most specifically, a wedding invitation and a letter from Johanna Mason. The wedding invitation was pinned carefully on the bulletin board where Katniss glared at it each time she walked past. Johanna's letter sat on the coffee table, where they both would pick it up and read it occasionally.

_Hey Lovebirds,_

_Been awhile, huh? Last time I saw either of you things were a pretty big mess. Y'know, Katniss, maybe that stupid head doctor was right, since things have gotten better! Little Finn just turned 3 and I just taught him and Annie how to throw axes! Cool. Me and Annie are working on a new project, you know, save the world and shit, and we wanna come talk to you about it. Anyway, we just got back from a trip to District 2. Turns out Gale Force and his ladyfriend wanna finally tie the knot, like it's fooling anyone; their little pinecone is old enough to have bad fashion sense! They probably didn't tell you two, but I thought I'd warn you they wanna get married in your shitty district! Don't get all offended, kids; I'm sure you've prettied it up a lot in 3 years. Since the wedding's supposed to be next week, I figure we'll just come stay with you two! Who doesn't feel right at home in the Victors' Village, right? Ha! _

_Didn't you miss me?_

_Johanna._

Peeta was pretty excited to see Johanna and Annie, and was even glad he would get to see Madge again. But Gale, the best moment he'd had with Gale was when he'd given him a suicide pill. Not exactly flowers and champagne. Though the idea of seeing Gale again gave Peeta a twinge of discomfort, it seemed to make Katniss absolutely bonkers, proof positive were the twin holes on her leg, and the way she hadn't let Peeta out of her sight ever since.

For the first few days, Peeta welcomed this with open arms. Usually she would spend her days hunting, trading, cooking with him, maybe listening to some music before they went to bed. The past few days, she hadn't done any of that. Peeta tried to keep his days as normal as possible, but it was more difficult since Katniss had taken to following him wherever he went. She helped him bake, got him to teach her chess until she got frustrated, read to her, snuggled on the couch. Peeta realized something was strange when he noticed that she hadn't gone outside since the snakebite except to go to town with him. She came with him everywhere, clinging to him. When he couldn't keep her busy, she stared into space, rattling anything in her grip or fidgeting in her chair. Peeta rationalized that she was nervous about seeing their old friends again. It was all so very... un-Katniss-y which was slowly making Peeta absolutely bonkers.

So he was in the kitchen, working on gingersnaps, hoping this would help her feel better, when her tapping finally started to get to him.  
>"Katniss," Peeta began quietly, "Katniss," he attempted to pry her attention away from the wall and said a little louder, "Katniss!"<p>

Her eyes came back into focus, "What?"

"We should talk about this; it's bothering you," He gave a quick glance at his cookies, which were browning on a sheet in the oven, and wiped his hands on his apron.  
>Katniss ducked her head and took her braid in hand, twisting it thoughtfully, "It will be nice to see Madge and her baby, and Johanna and Annie," she added.<br>Peeta sighed and sat down with her at the table. He gathered her hands in his and looked at her seriously, "This is about Gale."

"Yes," she said quietly.

Peeta was far beyond asking whether Katniss wanted to be with Gale, whether she loved him, whether she would rather be with him. Though he and Gale had never had a great relationship, suicide pills and sardonic laughter were the closest they would ever get to love, he knew Gale well enough to know that if he said he was going to marry Madge, he was going to marry Madge. And Peeta didn't know a lot about children or biology, but that little girl Katniss had pointed out when they reran the interview was definitely his. For Katniss, though, he knew that it wasn't so simple.

"What is it about seeing Gale again that's gotten you so..." he trailed off lamely, "edgy?"

Katniss sighed hugely, her eyes sought out his, "I just don't know how I'm going to be with him. I don't know if... if I miss him or if I hate him. Or both."  
>The little crinkle that appeared in her forehead told him that there was more, "and?" he prompted.<p>

She shot him a sharp glare, and then averted her eyes down to her lap, "I'm mad at him," she said in a small, intense voice. In that moment she looked like an indignant child.

Peeta could think of a _lot_ of reasons Katniss might be mad at Gale, most of them involving snares, bombs and Primrose, but he couldn't cover his shock when she explained:

"He didn't kill me," she blurted, "and I didn't kill him. I was supposed to kill him but I didn't understand what he was saying. Then I shot the president and then he should have killed me. He didn't," her face contorted, "He killed Prim but not me."

Peeta let out a low breath and leaned back in his chair, he shook his head, hoping to clear it but having little success, "Katniss, being mad about the bombs is understandable, but why would you be mad that he didn't kill you?"

"I don't expect you to understand, Peeta," she grumbled.

"You can try to explain it to me," he murmured back, eyes imploring.

Katniss sat with her eyes closed tight. Peeta saw her lips moving in the familiar mantra that began with _my name is Katniss Everdeen_. He breathed deeply and waited.

"It's like I told you," she began in a measured voice, "I should have killed him and I didn't. It's like why Gale gave you the Nightlock in the Capitol," she explained briefly the moment in which Gale had pleaded with her to kill him and in her confusion, she had failed to let her arrow fly, "It's a betrayal. Killing people is awful and it takes _everything_"

"Everything that you are," Peeta completed sadly,

"But leaving someone to the Capitol? To torture? You have to make the decision in the moment and kill them. You have to sacrifice yourself so that they don't suffer. It's why I killed Cato, remember? It was better that way. It's why, why I..." Her voice faltered, "why I tried to kill you."  
>Peeta was at once overwhelmingly glad he had experienced the incredibly awkward heart to heart with Haymitch.<p>

"After the Quell," he whispered softly, "You came for me with just a syringe."

Silence dominated the conversation. Katniss did not bother to ask how he knew this, but she could not refute it. "Yes,"

"You were going to kill me," Peeta said with a strange elation in his voice.

"Yes, Peeta," she said in exasperation.

"You _love_ me," he breathed, eyes wide, face glowing.

Katniss could only glare at him, "_I_ _know that," _she ground out, unable to participate in Peeta's jubilation, "I just figured that out and that makes this whole Gale thing worse. I don't want to be confused again."

"Confused about what?" Peeta asked her, a pang of something sharp coloring his tone. He thought he had been over the idea of Katniss loving Gale, and hadn't he just realized the opposite?

Katniss looked at him, her grey eyes widened in anger, then she forcibly closed them and took a breath. She kept her eyes closed, and drew her knees close to herself, protectively. "Gale and I... we didn't have to talk to know what the other wanted... what the other would do... but that day... everything was insane and... he was counting on me... to make that sacrifice. I could see him, see his eyes..." her voice faltered, and Peeta suddenly understood that she was keeping her eyes closed to keep from crying. "I could see his eyes, I could see his lips moving, and I couldn't tell what he wanted. I spent the precious few moments I had to save him trying to figure out what the hell he was saying. I just knew that... even without the bombs... whatever we had been... was... gone. Changed forever."

"You two have never talked...?" He saw the look on her face, "Of course not, you didn't need to," he sighed, "Do you want to talk to him about it?"

Katniss looked as though he had suggested she burn the house down.

"I mean... whatever is between you two, if it's not unspoken anymore," he tried to sound patient, though her looking at him like he was crazy was making him feel a bit defensive. "Then you have to talk about it."

The buzzer on the oven went off, Katniss looked incredibly relieved, "You should-"

"No, they'll wait." He held her gaze, "Do your mantra. What do you know for sure? Let's start there."

"My mantra won't help me with Gale. Gale isn't part of my life anymore... he doesn't get to be a part of my mantra."  
>Peeta laughed. It sounded so childish, and paired with her pose, the overall effect was humorous. "Well, Gale is going to be here in a few days. He is going to be here, so, you may as well be prepared."<p>

She scowled at him. For some reason, this made him laugh harder. It wasn't that the situation was funny, or that he didn't care about her distress... more that, it was so terrible. The whole thing was so uncomfortable. He and Katniss had never talked about Gale after they came back, and suddenly, she was confiding in him her deepest feelings about him.

"Don't laugh at me," she growled at him.

"Katniss," he reached across the table for her hand. She gave him another sharp glare but let him take her hand in both of his, "This is just so absurd. I don't know anything about you and Gale. The second you start talking about him, I feel... frozen up on the inside, the way I'd used to feel when I saw you two together before the Games. I feel about 12 years old."

He leaned into her hand, and pulled it to his lips to kiss it. Still talking into their hands, he smiled patiently, "I think honestly, if you want me to be any help to you with this Gale thing, you're going to have to talk to me about him, really tell me about him. Where you met, when your relationship was at certain levels... Stories about him, what you liked about him... What went on when I was in the Capitol and you were in 13. I know it won't be easy, or fun, but I think it is important."

Katniss looked at him for a long time.

"Okay, but if I am going to talk to you about him... I need to know that you won't get jealous... that you won't freeze up. I'm bad at talking about things," she paused, and gave him an almost imperceptible squeeze of the hand, "Gale was my family. For a long time, he was all I had," she searched his face carefully, watching for a sign that he was upset, but his face was still, open, "You're my family now," she added quietly, a blush spreading across her cheeks, "and he won't change that, but I can't talk to you if I am worried that everything I say... will be... wrong, or hurt you somehow."

Peeta rose from the table, kissed her gently on the head, removed his only slightly darker cookies from the oven, and said jauntily: "I won't get jealous. You tried to kill me!"

Katniss stood, and wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her head on his back and running her hands over his stomach. The cheerfulness in his voice did not extend to hers, and she whispered, "Yes, I wanted to kill you. But I never wanted to hurt you."

Peeta set the cookies on the counter and intertwined his hands in hers. They stood there for many long moments, until Peeta turned around to face her, and wrapped her in his arms. When she tilted her face to him, their mouths met in a slow, easy kiss. When they finally broke apart, Peeta tilted his forehead down to hers, and whispered, "I'm glad you never had to kill me."

Katniss sighed into him, resting her face on his chest, "Me too."


	18. Grateful

CHAPTER 18: Grateful

Gale trailed his fingers along the subtly textured walls of the train's hallway. They were patterned with little leaves and flowers, though they felt woven to the touch. It didn't matter much. Even as he stopped and pressed his forehead against the faux foliage, trying to will his mind to believe the illusion that it was nature, it didn't help him to feel less claustrophobic, less motion sick.

The attendants insisted that he couldn't feel the movement, and maybe they were right. Either way, he had spent his first day on the train green, and hadn't fared much better after the initial nausea. Once his stomach troubles had passed, he became acutely aware of just how small the train was - or at least the part of it that they were allowed to wander: three sleeping cars - one for him and Madge and Maysilee, one for Finn, Annie, and Johanna, and one for Gentry and Caridee - as well as a dining car and a bar car.

No windows were to be opened, no fresh air to be circulated. Period.

He had wandered the hallways through and between these cars each night, growing edgier and edgier as sleep became more elusive with each passing day. Tonight, he had even snapped at Maysilee at dinner for refusing to eat the last of her sweet potatoes. He couldn't stand the idea of wasting food, even though he and Madge were well off enough that it didn't matter. Nonetheless, he hadn't intended to snap at her. She'd cried, and then he had felt like the world's worst father - as if his trouble communicating with her didn't make him feel that way already.

He'd come back and apologized, and she'd shared her dessert with him - a decadent chocolate cake with a molten center.

"Thanks for being nice to your dad, even though he's a jerk," he'd said to her as he wiped a bit of chocolate off her face as gently as he could.

"Mommy says you're not a jerk, you're just acting like a jerk," Maysilee had informed him in return, brandishing her spoon thoughtfully, unknowingly imitating her mother's own thoughtful pose.

After they had put Maysilee to bed, he and Madge had talked as much as they ever did.

"You think I'm a jerk huh?" he had started, as they pulled back to covers to go to sleep.

"I think you're acting like a jerk," Madge had corrected him with that same thoughtful look on her face. It was disconcerting sometimes, that Maysilee could look so much like him but that her motions, words and actions could echo Madge's with such astounding accuracy. He shook his head.

"Well thanks," he had said, intending to sound tough, or sarcastic, but instead just sounding pathetic and deflated. He had then sat on the bed, facing away from her, ready for that to be the end of it. Madge, ever better than he was at dealing with the problems between them, had taken his hands and looked into his eyes.

"I think you're on edge about seeing Katniss again, and I think that's okay."

Rather than answering her, because she was right - she was always right, in fact - he had kissed her, coaxed her, seduced her, and they had made love - on the bed, against the walls, on the floor, in the shower, for almost an hour. He felt bad for using sex with her as a way not to talk about things - about Katniss, but he just couldn't explain to her... everything that Katniss was to him, and everything she wasn't, partially because he didn't know himself.

After Madge had drifted off, he'd stroked her hair, kissed her cheek, and gotten up to wander the halls of the train. The previous nights, he had waited for nightmares to awaken him, and then wandered; but tonight, it seemed it would take more energy to do that than not to sleep at all.

He checked in on Maysilee, and even peeked into Gentry and Caridee's and Annie and Johanna's car. He was hoping that someone might be awake. Johanna wasn't in her bed, but she also wasn't in their car at all.

He just wanted to stop thinking about Katniss, but he couldn't. Being on this train, which may have been the exact train - or similar enough to pass - that took her to the games made him thoughtful, regretful even.

His 4-day journey from District 2 to District 12 as a man with his family and friends to attend his own wedding had been destructive enough to his psyche. He couldn't imagine this journey alone as a child, with the destination being the arena and his own death.

A shiver of guilt ran through him as he thought of how hard he had been on Katniss, how unwilling to listen to her about her experiences. He had thought it was as simple as pretending to love Peeta or really loving him to win. Being on the train now, he could relate to how a companion might make a difference in such a disorienting and claustrophobic place.

It didn't seem fair, the expectation that he had held Katniss too - to know everything so certainly when nothing in her life was in her own control at all. Perhaps he would tell her he was sorry when he saw her, unless he found himself tongue-tied, like when he tried to talk to Madge about it.

After all, he couldn't just have sex with Katniss to keep from talking about things. The thought pulled him up short. He couldn't have sex with Katniss for any reason. Ever. He tried to figure out if this was something that he had even wanted - sex with Katniss.

The sounds of a commotion brought Gale to his attention. He trained his ear to the sound. It was coming from the bar car. It could be an attendant, cleaning up, but it seemed late for that. He had a hunch as to who it might be - the only other one out of bed according to his earlier census.

Gale was surprised and not surprised to find Johanna behind the bar in the train. She might have called an attendant, but she had simply gone behind the bar and found what she wanted. Gale wondered if she ever looked fully rested.

"Make me a drink, barkeep?"

Johanna narrowed her eyes in the darkness. She was still sober, but held a very old, fancy bottle in her fist. She brushed a pile of little wax pieces from the bottle onto the floor. She pulled out two crystal glasses and filled them up with the liquor. She took a large draw out of hers, before sliding Gale's to him. She pulled a dark green robe closer around herself before offering him a half-hearted smirk,

"Getting cold feet, Gale Force?"

That idea had been so far from Gale's mind it took him a moment to register what it meant.

"About Madge? No. We're, you know, we've got Maysilee." He took a sip of the alcohol; it was incredibly strong, but smooth.

Johanna's barking laugh echoed through the empty bar. "Don't really have a choice, do ya? Gotta make an honest woman of your girl."

Gale gave Johanna his best glare. It had never worked on her, but it was worth a try. He didn't like the idea of Johanna, or anyone for that matter questioning his feelings for Madge. Whatever else might be true, he loved her. He'd said as much, and made a point of never saying things that he didn't mean. "Yeah? What about you? Don't tell me you and Mrs. Odair sleep separately?" He needled with no venom in his voice.

"We don't, for your information. And she is a fantastic kisser," she growled good naturedly, dismissing Gale's fear that she had made an accusation, rather than a conversation starter. She took another swig from her glass, this time grimacing at the taste. They sat in silence that was probably comfortable to her, but just made Gale squirm. He didn't want to talk about Katniss, but he wanted to talk.

"How did all of that happen, anyway?"

Johanna let out a big sigh and stared him down. "We gotta talk about this now, huh?"

"I don't care," Gale mumbled, climbing up onto a barstool and dropping her gaze. "I just have no idea how you and Annie Odair of all people fell in love. Sounds like a nice bedtime story."

Johanna snorted and swished the alcohol around in her glass. "You remember I didn't get to go to the Capitol."

Gale raised his eyebrows. Something about her tone made him feel more, rather than less uneasy. He tried to keep it light though, "Why don't we start further back, like, in the dark days?"

"Shut up Hawthorne, you're the one that asked," she said weakly, then a mischievous gleam lit her eyes, "Unless you want to talk about what's actually bothering you, like, seeing _you-know-who_ again," she sing-songed.

Gale raised his hands in surrender, "Please, continue. Tell me the whole story of Johanna and Annie."

Johanna looked him up and down, and as she weighed something out in her mind, Gale couldn't help but notice that all the sound seemed to disappear from the air - as if sucked away by some force. The gentle tingles of the glasses as they brushed together with the movement of the train, the almost inaudible sounds of the engine and travel, and even his own breathing stopped creating sound. This was what the air felt like before a snare was sprung, or before Katniss let an arrow fly. Tense. Charged.

Johanna seemed to come to a decision. She took a deep breath, "Finnick came to me before he left." Her voice seemed to leave her. She sighed deeply and wandered to the other side of the bar. Gale wondered if talking about Finnick was as hard for her as it was for him to talk about Katniss. They too, seemed to have an ambiguous closeness. Maybe this was exactly the wrong thing to ask about when he was having doubts about Katniss.

Johanna grumbled for him to join her at a table. "I have to start further back or it doesn't make sense."

Gale, who was not used to such gravitas from Johanna, sat across from her at a square table, with his cup, waiting. The train's quiet whirring noises resumed as it careened forward. The one lamp in the room cast long shadows over the empty tables.

Gale waited. He had learned to wait for Johanna to speak, rather than lead her with questions. She, like most of the Victors he'd known or seen seemed to have trouble with organizing her own thoughts sometimes. Many silent hours had passed between the two of them during the "Clean Up" tour. On a squad with rebels from all kinds of districts, talk was never sparse during dinner. Years of forced isolation between Districts made it interesting to share words, traditions and stories between them. People were baffled and elated by district unity.

Perhaps they wouldn't have grown close at all if they hadn't both volunteered for third watch. At the time, Gale and Johanna still both had trouble sleeping at night. In the wee hours of the morning, they'd had many interesting conversations, trading sarcastic comments, stories and jokes. None of them terribly personal, mostly philosophical, about the nature of evil, the future of Panem, their squad mates and the oddities of each District. Sometimes, they were quiet for hours at a time, watching the stars, playing cards or just keeping meditative watch over their sleeping comrades.

This quiet was different. He noticed that her brow was still furrowed and took another small sip from his cup. He waited for her to collect her thoughts as the train continued to hurtle toward District Twelve, toward Katniss and Peeta and his wedding.

Johanna suddenly sucked in a chestful of air, and then began quickly, "Finnick was my first. It was not like you would think sex should be the first time. We had sex in front of a crowd of Gamemakers, politicos and wealthy assholes. They paid Snow handsomely for the privilege. He paid us by not killing our friends."

All of this, or course, completely blind-sided Gale. It was not like we would think of at all, was completely unfathomable to him. He thought briefly of his first time with Madge, the ataraxia that came from feeling like they were the only two in the universe, folding slowly into one another. This memory was swept aside by Johanna, who barreled on, seeming determined not to look at him, or pause, or even breathe, as if any of these things might make it impossible to continue her story.

"Finnick was sweet. Slow. If it hadn't been against our will and in front of _them_, it might have been fine. During I could keep my eyes closed, keep them shut out to some extent, but it was the afterward that was the worst. You would think that they would have left, but no one did. You know how they are. Wanted to see us while we were the most vulnerable. Finnick held me while I cried and cried like I'd lost it," she laughed bitterly at that, "And they watched. Just watched. Watched us until I was cried out, until I passed out in complete hysterics. When I woke up, they were gone, but Finnick wasn't. He had gotten us both dressed, tucked me in."

Gale tried to reconcile Johanna's account with any feeling he had ever experienced before. The closest one who could conjure was the way he felt being whipped - naked, helpless, and overcome by suffering. He tried to find words, anything to say to Johanna that told her that he understood, but he couldn't, because he didn't.

"In the morning, Finnick explained the rest. What would happen next. He was my..." she struggled, her long fingers tightened around the little crystal glass. "_Initiation_," she said slowly, disgusted by the word. "I was lucky. Finnick's was Cashmere." Gale could tell there was probably a story there too, but he did not interrupt, "He said we might get to sleep together again, but mostly it would be the people from the crowd. Strangers. I knew, I _knew_," she grated out, "That they would hurt them- my... that's they'd-" she stopped for a moment, schooled her features and hardened her voice, "But I was so fucking stupid. Next time, when I went to the Capitol, I turned down five dates. Closed the door in their ugly Capitol faces. I took the rest. Seven." She closed her eyes and seethed, "Five men and two women. One woman and some of them men just wanted to show me off, took me to dinner, one of them took me dancing. The others, the woman, the _men_." Johanna said this bitterly, and Gale realized that perhaps Johanna had always preferred women, even before the gentle embrace of Annie Odair. "I thought that would be enough. Enough to keep my parents safe, and my grandfather. My best friends from school."

Gale understood suddenly, something that he'd seen during the Quarter Quell. After the jabberjays had tortured Katniss and Finnick with the screaming voices of their loved ones, Johanna had said, "They can't hurt me. There's no one left I love." These words rang in his ears as Johanna finally brought her eyes to meet his, tears threatening to spill over at any moment, and she uttered in a voice so completely broken Gale could hardly believe that the words belonged to Johanna, "my little brother," she choked out. She stopped here, silent tears sliding down her cheeks. He thought instantly about what he would do to protect Rory, Vick and Posy, what lengths he would go to in order to keep them safe.

"My village," she continued quietly, "my entire village," she repeated, "Everyone there was so strong," she said this in a hushed, reverent voice that Gale had never heard her use, there was something in her tone he couldn't quite place, "Lumberjacks. Men and women who could climb to the top of an eighty foot tall tree with just a leather belt and fell that same tree with a few swoops. Crews of people and horses, knocking down and planting trees. Sending them down the river to town, log rolling. So strong." Gale realized that there was only one way to explain how Johanna described her people, _admiration_. He imagined trying to explain mining to someone who had never been into the filthy blackness under the earth how incredibly strong miners were.

Johanna directed her gaze toward the glow of the lamp, and it reflected in her dark, earthy eyes, which had gone dead as she continued in a hushed, monotone voice. "It was... a very dry year. The fire started at my teacher's house. I don't think it was meant to go very far. But those assholes probably didn't bother to look at conditions. Lumber and pine needles, everything held together with pitch... none of them got out alive. The whole thing went up. It was all gone when I got back. _They_ were all gone," Johanna took a sharp breath and said the next part a bit too quickly, as though trying to put space between the loss of her village and her reality, "I moved to the city and lived a shitty, shitty life. I mentored, showed up for all of the Victory Tour nonsense, but only to be with the other Victors. Only to be with Finnick and the others, planning the rebellion. Finnick and a lot of the others had to keep doing it, fucking the Capitol, but they couldn't make me anymore." There was no pride in her voice when she said this, only emptiness.

A thought struck Gale, "So all of the Victors...?"

"The pretty ones got the worst. But it seemed like someone wanted the newest victor each time, no matter what they looked like. They call it _winning_ the Games in the Capitol. Everywhere else it's _surviving._ Ever notice that? It's not a prize you want to win." Her eyes seemed to go somewhere very distant. "You've killed children. When it happens you're the same age, but every year you get older and the children you killed stay the same age. You can never really go back to your District. They've seen what you can do. They never really trust you again. And your body? Even if they only whore you out a few times, or even if you don't actually have to have sex, well, it's like killing someone, you don't forget that someone bought you. That you are just a Victor. Just different type of district slave. And at the point where you're a murderer and a prostitute, well, you had better learn to be friends with the other murderous prostitutes."

Gale didn't hear what she said next, he was thinking furiously about Katniss and Peeta, about what might have happened to Katniss had she not saved Peeta. That no matter what happened, people would have _wanted_ her. When he came back to, Johanna was silent, watching him,

"Too much for you?"

Gale shook his head mutely.

"I know what you're thinking. You bet your ass Katniss would have done it. To save you and her sister and that dirt pit of a district."

Johanna was off the mark by just a little. Gale didn't even have time to be mad about the insult. He knew Katniss would have done it. In an instant. It was that Gale had always wondered if Peeta hadn't come back, if Katniss had been the lone Victor, if they could have been together. He knew now that Katniss's fate had been sealed from the moment Prim's name had been drawn. Whether she lived or died, she never would have been his, not completely.

For this first time ever, Gale found himself truly grateful that Peeta Mellark had survived the Hunger Games. In the alternate web of reality spun by his mind, Peeta was the only man that Katniss would have ever had to do it with - in the Capitol or otherwise - and he would have never, ever hurt her, or been cruel to her. He would have done his best to protect her, the way Finnick had done with Johanna.

Peeta would have been her salvation - was her salvation, even without the alternate reality where she had to whore herself out the Capitol to save her family - something he had accused her of doing on more than one occasion. If only he'd known how wrong he was. All they'd wanted her to do in the Capitol was get married. Although, thanks to Johanna's little bedtime story, he was beginning to get a feeling that their wedding night would have been a very expensive... what had she called it? Initiation.

If she had killed Peeta, it would have been like Johanna said. Katniss would have never really come back to the District. She would have been lost in the games, and returned a hollow shell of the girl from the Seam with whom he'd hunted, getting worse with each passing Games and each 'session' with some sick bastard from the Capitol.

He found himself suddenly very excited to shake Peeta's hand. He realized he had been staring out the window, considering only his own thoughts. Johanna's story wasn't over. He forced himself to wrench his thoughts from Katniss and Peeta, and to look at Johanna once more. He found her face, patient, and nodded for her to continue.

"When Annie won the Games, I don't know if Finnick was happy that she lived or terrified that he wouldn't be able to keep her safe from all of the _Victory_. She hadn't killed anyone, you maybe remember - she was still sort of... 'pure' I guess, or at least as pure as you could be under those circumstances." Johanna suddenly became obsessed with a tiny flaw in the crystal, a tiny chip that made the surface of the glass uneven. She began to pick at it; eyes focused on it as she continued. Gale tried to imagine how this story could get any worse, but didn't have to for long.

"Finnick made a deal with Snow so that Annie wouldn't have to go to the Capitol and sleep with his stupid patrons. He took on extras, made more appearances. Made it look like he enjoyed it, made it public, increased interest. He did everything he could to protect her. And somewhere in there, they fell in love. I wasn't really close to her during that time, just him, and he wouldn't breathe a word about her in front of anyone. He was convinced that she was reaped initially to punish him because they were friends back in District 4. Further discussion of his feelings for her would only result in more danger for her."

Gale tried to reconcile this idea with the Finnick that he knew, first damaged, and then so loving, so tied to Annie that he barely ever let go of her hand. Finnick had always been closer to Katniss and Peeta than to him, and he had honestly resented their closeness. He had always felt that Finnick was sort of "on Peeta's side," as silly as that sounded. Now, he just felt juvenile for ever resenting someone so willing to sacrifice himself so completely.

Briefly, he tried to remember what it had felt like in 13 to be jealous of Peeta and Katniss, to prepare himself for what it might be to see them again, but his thoughts were hijacked by Johanna and Annie and Finnick, and the twisted tastes of the Capitol, whose entitlement to luxury apparently knew no bounds.

"Finnick was so good at it, always such a good actor, but it _killed _him inside. _Wrecked _him. He was so scared that something would happen to Annie. I was more worried something would happen to him than her. Some of those Capitol assholes have sick tastes. He'd come back with bruises, weird marks from creepy tools. Things got worse, maybe the word spread that he was _into_ that shit, but it started happening a lot more. One night, while we were in the Capitol for the 73rd games, I got called up to the hospital. He came back from one of his regulars who had... especially peculiar tastes," she spat. "His back looked like..." she swallowed, hard, and Gale felt his stomach turn. "This guy... got these sheets made of spun glass, and there were thousands of these tiny, razor sharp threads cutting into him, all over his face, his body. He almost bled out. It took hours of surgery to pull these things out. When I finally got in to see him, he was terrified, delirious with pain killers. He thought he was going to die. He made me promise that if anything happened to him, I would take care of Annie and Mags," She sighed, as if in defeat and stared out the window at the darkness. "I promised."

Gale felt a cold sweat break out on his own back. Acutely, he could feel the countless scars from when he own back was in shreds seem to tighten around his ribs. He tried to remember what he had been feeling in his own haze of pain killers, pain, and near death. He had thought of... Madge. In his haze, he had kissed Katniss, and been aware that Peeta was there, but he suddenly remembered, from the edge of consciousness that Madge had come; through the storm to bring him her mother's Morphling. Madge.

"You know all about the Quell and what happened right after. You know that the Capitol finally had the chance to hurt me like they'd wanted to." She stopped for a moment, and swallowed down the rest of her alcohol. Gale realized that he had been clutching his glass, rather than drinking from it as he listened to her story. He wanted to lean back from her, not to hear the next part of what she had to say, because he knew what would happen next. Finnick would die, leaving his wife and child. Gale wanted to say something, to interrupt even, but he only reached out and covered her hand with his.

"When I was back in the hospital, Finnick came to see me. He asked me the same thing he asked before, would I take care of Annie if he died, and I said 'yes, of course, of course I'll be there for Annie, just while you're gone though, you asshat, because you're coming back.'"

"But he didn't." Gale couldn't help it. Now having a child himself, he couldn't imagine all of the things Finnick had already missed, and would continue to miss for the rest of his son's life. First steps, first words, first birthday... He closed his eyes and his daughter's bright, smiling face filled his mind. He breathed her in silently, grateful that he had made it to District 2 to find her, and that Madge had consented to let him be a part of their lives, even though he had acted so stupidly about things with Katniss and the Quell.

"Annie knew he wasn't dead the first time they announced you all had blown up. But she also knew he was gone before anyone had any idea what had happened. She lost it completely. She was catatonic. She wouldn't eat or drink or talk. It was like she was completely empty. Just a little seashell. I did everything I could, paid an old midwife in District Four; I made her take Annie to the ocean every day. But she didn't get better. She took care of her and the baby while I was off on the Clean-Ups. When I came back, she was still completely hollow. But I got us a little place and stayed with her in Four. I hated water so much, you remember, but I knew if Annie needed anything she needed the ocean. So I took her there every day. She didn't get better until Finn was born. I was there the day he was born. I was with Annie when she finally woke up. Maybe it was the pain or the reality of him, I don't know. But she started to come back."

"We raised Little Finn together. I helped Annie stay awake and alive and Annie helped me be okay with water again - and... Okay with myself, I don't know. We both really missed Finnick. There were so many times when Annie was locked in her mind and I was alone with Little Finn that I wanted to give up, go back to Seven and just live in the forest. But I loved them and I promised Finnick. And we helped each other. After a while, we were a family." A small smile crept onto her face. "I knew I had feelings for Annie, but I never thought that she'd feel that way for me, I'm vicious, I'm a Victor, I'm kind of a bitch, and you know, a woman besides. I'm not ashamed of any of that. But Annie, she's intuitive, so one day we were just doing the dishes, and she turned to me, like I had startled her and said, 'Jo, we're in love!' and dropped the plate she was working on and just kissed me." She laughed, perhaps only to cover up a small hitch in her voice.

"She's the most amazing person I've ever met. She just loves so freely. I promised Finnick I would take care of her, and this is the best way to do it. I'm going to love her and take care of her and their baby... our baby... until I'm the oldest, bitchest, creakiest woman in the world."

She met Gale's eyes for the first time since she began her story. "And that, Gale Force, is being married. I'm good to be a witness at your wedding, but as far as I'm concerned, you're already married. _I'm_ already married. Annie can stay married to Finnick."

Gale was without words. Johanna had summed up in such succinct words what he felt for Madge and Maysilee. Though he had never felt afraid of the wedding, never felt like it was the wrong thing to do since they decided to do it; he felt that it was the _right_ thing to do. He had always believed that being married was just a piece of paper, a silly formality. Now, it seemed like something that should be celebrated.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Johanna shook herself, returning from the many places the story had taken her. She and rolled her eyes, "well, don't get all sentimental, Gale Force, save some of those emotions for the big day. And get some sleep," she took the glass from his hand and put both in the sink unceremoniously, and then with a sarcastic little salute, then she was gone.

He sat there for a moment, his thoughts still swirling around her story. After hearing all of that, seeing Katniss again seemed like a small feat, even gift to be able to see and speak with someone who'd grown up where he had grown up, known the same people, played the same childhood games. Finnick's incredible sacrifice, Johanna's unspeakable losses, and the real truth about the many futures he had imagined with and for Katniss all whirled around him, leaving his heart threadbare.

Gale realized that though Johanna's "bedtime story," was not what he had wanted or expected, it had done its job of making him want to go back to bed. It also seemed to have sparked something different, a feeling he wasn't sure he'd had before. The strange emotion seemed to envelop him as he stretched out and searched for the switch to fully darken the car. He wondered about it as he wandered back through the hallways, as he stroked his daughter's raven hair, brushed his hand over her pink little cheek. Then still, as he climbed into bed, as Madge reflexively entangled herself in him, so warm, so soft. It hit him just as he was drifting to sleep that the feeling was gratefulness.


	19. On the Count of Three

CHAPTER 19: On The Count of Three

*** Author's Note ***

I just wanted to take a minute to thank all of our readers. Your reviews, watches, and favorites really keep us inspired to keep working and keep striving for something beautiful. I wanted to apologize that it has taken almost 20 chapters to get our 4 characters in the same place again, and while I promise that it will pay off in some big ways, I appreciate everyone hanging in there nonetheless. Please continue to read and review, and we'll keep posting in as timely a fashion as possible.

A night of fitful sleep had ensured an early, shaky morning, but Peeta helped Katniss more than he even knew by being his ever kind, ever patient self with her. She started out the morning by spilling the water that he had boiled for tea, and then made a rather terrible attempt at an omelet with some of the eggs from Haymitch's geese that he choked down without complaint. Perhaps he was a little distracted this morning too, she considered.

She should have gone to the woods. It was as simple as that. Sure, her leg was still tender from the snake bite, but the doctor in town had said it would be fine to walk on, just a bit weak until it had healed completely. Even without her refusal to escape into the salvation that trees would have brought, the morning was off. Though she wouldn't have had to go far to get some relief from her anxiety, instead, she had spent her morning bathing for some reason that she couldn't quite remember clearly.

Water usually made her feel better, and, more than she cared to admit, the memory of Madge on TV, looking prim and polished the way the Capitol liked made her want to seem... clean. She had scrubbed the woods from her body, the coal from under her nails, and even the tangles from her hair. Peeta had drawn her a bath after she had started one, and then forgotten about it, flooding their bathroom with hot water. It didn't take the two of them long to mop it up, and for Peeta to sit her carefully on the toilet seat while he drew her a new, bubble-filled bath. She shooed him out as she undressed and slipped into the warmth.

A few minutes alone in the bath, however, made her feel hot and agitated, rather than weightless, calm, and in control, the way she hoped it would. After a few attempts to drown out her worries by submerging her head and holding her breath to block out the sounds of the world, she found herself calling for Peeta, who poked his head in hesitantly, eyes hidden under a hand, and teased, "What's wrong? Did you wash yourself with toothpaste?"

Though she hadn't thought the joke was very funny, she fought her instincts to push him away and invited him to sit on the edge of the tub and put his feet in. He had showered earlier, so he didn't need to, certainly, but she hoped that perhaps, he would want to. She wanted his company, needed him just to be there. Peeta, ever indulging her strangest and most vague requests, sat carefully, rolled up his pant legs, and plunked his feet into the water near her feet unceremoniously.

When her ankles brushed his underneath the cover of the bubbles, she felt a tingle travel up her leg, all the way to her lips, which acknowledged the touch with a reluctant smile.

His presence had indeed improved her mood. They had become much closer over the past week, since the letter from Madge had driven her into the woods, since she had been poisoned into deliriousness by snake venom, and since she had finally opened up to him about Gale. The idea of Peeta being in the same room with her naked, even though her body was hidden by a layer of bubbles was intimidating, but inviting all the same.

Few words passed between them. Katniss alternated between absentmindedly rubbing the hair on her legs in the water, feeling thankful it would never be gone again, and twirling little circles around the bubbles with her fingers. For his part, Peeta found a rough brush and pretended to try to remove a small stain on the rim of the tub. Like the night before they got married on the Capitol train, they ended up just watching bubbles pop, that is, until the cover got too sparse for comfort, and Katniss had sent Peeta out so she could finish up in private.

She dressed quickly, picking out pants and a top at random, deciding she could pick something new once her hair was dry. Her next task was not so simple. Instead of seeking the sanity that she would find in the woods, she decided the best thing to do was to rip a comb through her hair - which seemed only to drive her closer to insanity, rather than soothe her fragile nerves. She sat on the bed she shared with Peeta, comb in hand, tearing at the multitude of tangles and knots that her hair had accumulated since it was last brushed - incidentally, she had no recollection of this. She usually just put it in a braid and that was that.

Peeta, who had been digging through the boxes of clothes designed by Cinna and Portia that Katniss had yet to put in their closet, had been so horrified by her treatment of her hair that he had begged her to let him try instead.

Then he had sat behind her on their bed and gently tugged his fingers through her hair, starting at the bottom and working his way up, untangling the largest knots. After a short head massage, he had took the comb from her relaxed hand and gradually, with his deft, artist's hands, he removed even the smallest, most-Finnick worthy knots her hair had to offer. When her hair was free of tangles, he simply continued to comb through it, lifting it up, parting it different ways, making sure each strand was free of the others. Katniss realized after some time that she was smiling, and humming ever so quietly.

"Where did you learn that?" She asked softly; when her hair was almost dry.

Peeta was silent for a long moment, and she wondered briefly if she shouldn't have asked.

"My father used to comb my mother's hair. It was about the happiest I ever saw the two of them. This is how he did it, starting at the bottom and working up, combing until her hair was dry."

For a moment, Katniss felt abashed, she forgot sometimes that Peeta's family had died in the Capitol's firestorm after the Quell. "Do you miss them?" she asked him in what she hoped was a soft voice.

Peeta nodded, keeping his hands in her hair, stroking it, "every day, but like you and Gale, I never really knew how to 'be' around them after the Games. My mother wouldn't live in the Victor's Village and my father couldn't just leave her and my brothers either. I suppose Leffsa might have come..." he trailed off with a shrug.

"Why didn't your mother want to live with you?" Katniss swallowed hard, somehow anticipating what his answer might be. Why didn't Gale want to take Katniss's Victor money for his family? Peeta. Why didn't Peeta's mother want to live with him in the Victors' Village? She recalled now, with force, the time between the games, Peeta going to his family's for dinner, checking up on them, going into town to help in the bakery, but always returning to his empty house.

Peeta sighed heavily, and she could almost sense him trying to find the right words to use to explain something that was going to hurt, not matter how he put it. "Katniss, it was-"

"It was because of me." She felt cold on the inside, sick. If Peeta's family had lived in the Victors' Village, they would have survived the bombing... Learning that more innocent people died because of her was the opposite of what she needed on today of all days. When Peeta didn't respond, she repeated, "It was because of me, wasn't it?" She found herself grateful that she wasn't facing him.

"My mother... didn't approve of us... I suppose, of you. She had this idea that Merchants and Seam folk were different. She thought that merchants were ...better somehow. She really wasn't impressed that I was willing to die for you." Peeta's hands dropped helplessly into his lap. "I don't know. I never understood it."

She turned to Peeta and looked into his eyes. She found them strangely clear and calm. His words made her feel a small burst of affection for him. Of course he had never believed the Seam folk were different. Not Peeta.

It also made Katniss feel better somehow, rather than worse, maybe because she could relate to Peeta's confusion. "Gale thought that too - that Merchants were different, but... he thought we were better, in the Seam. He was always mean to Madge, like on Reaping day, he'd make comments about her clothes, like they protected her from being scared or something." The memory brought a flush of anger to her cheeks. She had never liked the way Gale had treated Madge. Didn't like the idea of Gale and Madge period, possibly.

Suddenly, a question crossed her mind, one that hadn't occurred to her before. She asked Peeta, quietly, "How do you think they... had a baby?" She realized, as soon as the words left her lips, that they sounded naive.

Peeta grinned, despite himself. "They had sex, Katniss."

A hot blush ran across her face, and she struggled to keep her features composed. Suddenly, this situation didn't seem to be about Madge and Gale. Madge and Gale seemed to be a million miles away, though they were, possibly, only minutes from the train station in 12. For some reason, Peeta's statement brought to her attention his proximity, his shirtlessness, and his heat. The same heat that she had tasted the night of the snake bite.

Her mouth was slightly agape as she remembered, in vivid detail, the taste of his lips. He took this as a look of indignation. "Katniss, I'm sorry. That was in bad taste." He wrapped hand around her neck and pulled her in to kiss her forehead, and at the last minute, she darted her chin up to steal a kiss on the lips and gave him a small, tentatively mischievous smile.

Now Peeta was the one blushing. After he recovered from the surprise, he leaned in and met her lips with his, threading his fingers through her hair once again. Peeta's hands in her hair felt different than they had just moments ago, flooding her with warmth, sending tingles down her spine, and curling her toes. Her kiss seemed to have awakened something in him, and he leaned in further, his body not insisting, but suggesting that she lay back against the pillows.

Their bodies leaned slowly down, falling into place together. His hand appeared on her hip, a light pressure. She could move him if she wanted. Shove him away, but the sensations were so unlike anything she had experienced before. Immediate, and insistent thrills traveled through her body, just at the brush of his bare skin against hers, so, instead, she wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him closer, so that their chests were flush against one another. Another wave of ecstasy crashed over her form, igniting, rather than quelling the fire that seemed to be raging in her very nerve endings.

Her mouth arrived on his shoulder, kissing down and around scars, into uncharted territories of new skin, old skin and the skin that looked the most like hers, the skin that had been warped by fire. They a matched set, just as they had been during their first games, and their second. Katniss knew, as she breathed his sweet breath into her own lungs, that she and Peeta Mellark were exactly that, a pair forged in the same fire, the same past, and the same pain. Everything they had been through had only made them more right for each other. All of this she knew, more clearly than ever, as her hands and mouth mapped out the terrain of his patchwork skin.

When their eyes met, steel and sky, she found his to be as clear and steady as ever. Their lips met again, need creeping slowly, deepening their kisses.

Peeta's hand moved slowly over her stomach, stopping almost entirely at the line of her brassiere. Then, carefully, inched upward to barely caress the curve of her breast. Katniss inhaled sharply; astounded that such a simple touch could _feel_ so much as he pressed his open hand against her and kissed her again. She moaned through the pressure of his lips, and their tongues found each other, entangling in a wet, hot, dance that only coaxed more deep, throaty sounds to fight, muffled, through their kisses.

They broke their embrace and their eyes locked again. Katniss took in Peeta's face, flushed; his hair, mussed, and he seemed to silently ask her permission. She arched her back up, and his hands wrapped around her back, as they had so many times. For a moment, he froze, hands pressed against her rib cage, and she could recall how soft his hands used to be. Perfect for kneading bread, but not for fighting, or working. With more effort than it should have taken, he ran them up the last few inches to the clasps of her brassiere, and she noticed, with a swell of longing that they had grown callous. Even as he fumbled, his large fingers catching on the straps, struggling with the tiny hooks, she longed for these new hands, this new Peeta to caress her, to knead her, as he did bread, from head to foot.

When he finally worked the clasp free, he took the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head. As he was tossing her shirt aside, she shrugged the straps of her bra down around her elbows and discarded it. He had risen to take her in fully, and she had flopped back on the bed to allow him a better vantage point. As her head hit the mattress, she glanced to see where he hands had fallen to either side of her head. They tangled in her dark hair, illuminated by the sunlight streaming in through the open window.

She steeled herself to Peeta's possible shock at the extent of her transformation, after all, she could remember the last time they had been this naked together. In their room in the Training Center, before the Quarter Quell. Then, she had pressed insistently against him, hiding herself. Now, she lay still on her back and watched his face. It had to be done this way. All or nothing. There was no pretending that all the things that had happened to them hadn't, no hiding the scars of their past. She forced herself to meet his gaze.

Peeta had looked at her almost every day of his life from the time that he was 5, and Katniss had slowly become accustomed to the many ways he watched her. But this was a face she had never seen before, as he knelt above her on the bed, her shirt dangling uselessly from one of his hands. His eyes wide, his mouth open just so much as he took in the curve of her waist, the roundness of her breasts, and the scars that made patterns all throughout her body.

His gaze was almost too much for her, reverent, young, and giving her a sense of longing and fulfillment all at once, as if just being in this moment together were enough to make it all worth what it had cost. Her eyes dropped to his chest, to his stomach, and finally to the band of his pants, where she could see exactly the effect her nakedness had on him. She propped herself up on her elbows, more aware of her breasts than she had ever been - maybe because of how he was looking at them, or maybe because she avoided spending time naked whenever possible. Her voice was surprisingly steady when she finally intoned, "Come here."

For perhaps the first time in her life, Katniss did not try to suppress the tremble that worked its way down her body as he was suddenly and fully pressed against her. She didn't try to steady her racing heart, when he kissed her, right between her breasts, or to slow her quick breaths when his mouth closed around her nipple and sucked gently. She had always tried to pull away when this feeling crept up on her, and she suddenly found herself giving too lingering a hug, or too sincere a kiss. On those days she would run into the forest, far away from the District until she knew she was alone, and touch herself, thinking it was better to do it alone than to risk- to risk what? Vaguely, as she leaned into him, she realized that she couldn't remember. The feeling of warmth that had begun in her stomach had reached downward, she felt hot, needy. She had been wrong, it was not better to do it alone.

A small gasp escaped Peeta's lips when she felt his unfamiliar hardness against her thigh. They pressed against one another, tighter still as Peeta's mouth found hers again and again. Her hands seemed to be acting of their own accord, searching over his back, clasping his biceps, feeling up and down his face, tangling in his hair. She couldn't get enough of him. It seemed amazing that he could feel so strong and so soft, that his patchwork of skin and hers strangely made one perfect, complete puzzle. Almost complete. Their kiss broke when her hands settled on the band of his pants. She looped her fingers underneath and waited.

"Katniss," he breathed, looking into her face, "How do we... I mean... are we... Safe?"

It took her a moment to comprehend what he was talking about. Unbidden, images of the Capitol, Dr. Aurelius with a needle, and the words _it should steady your hormones out, which should do a lot to expedite your healing process, but I would forget about having children for at least five years or so_ popped into her mind. In her haze, Katniss thought fuzzily about how long ago that had been. Three years.

"I got a shot. In the Capitol. I'm... I can't," she explained meekly. She watched as several emotions flashed across his face. Surprise, hurt, and... Something else, acceptance? She was better at recognizing his expressions, but these flashed by so fast that she only caught a glimpse of each. His face unreadable, his body relaxed, and he placed his forehead against her lips. She kissed it in kind. She carefully took his face in her hands, not wanting to interrupt whatever thoughts were racing through his mind, and tried to turn his face up to look at her.

He pulled back away from her, and she was afraid that he had changed his mind when he leaned back and was kneeling before her once again. She opened her mouth to say something, having no idea what that would be, when he stood and carefully worked his pants down stopping only briefly to untangle his artificial leg.

Years ago, Peeta had told her he didn't care if she saw him. This still seemed to be true as he made no motion to cover himself, to hide how much he wanted her. Katniss willed her eyes not to widen as she looked at him, taking in the amazing way he seemed to fit together, that the broadness of his chest and shoulders worked down into his square hipbones, that his legs, even the artificial one were steady, even now. Every part of him, Peeta. Katniss reached out for his hand, and pulled him back onto the bed, back to her.

She tilted her head up to kiss him, once, slowly. Then, she reached down and pulled off her pants and underwear, kicking them to the foot of the bed. Her hand brushed against him, and they looked at one another, almost startled. It was softer than she thought it would be. Hard and soft, somehow. She ran her fingers up and down his length, just feeling, exploring. His mouth was on her shoulder, planting kisses and tiny licks between quiet gasps.

A small sound escaped his lips, a needful, throaty sound, that almost sounded like an expression of pain. Almost. Katniss found that this sound brought her a flood of pleasure between her thighs and rubbed them together, despite herself, trying to still the feeling of hollowness that was building in the base of her being. Soon enough, she knew, Peeta would fill her, overtake her, and that she would let him. Another soft growl from him brought an involuntary moan from her lips, and small buck from her hips.

Taking in her body language, one of his hands trailed up the inside of her leg, then carefully parting her, his fingers equally tentative. It was intoxicating; she couldn't have imagined it could feel this good, that someone's hands on her, that the gentle touch from Peeta's fingers could send her to a place she had surely never been. That the world, which was so cruel and so unforgiving, could be washed away by the ball of fire building at the very core of her. She arched her back and let the blaze engulf her, consume her, and when she came to it was the sound of her own cries of pleasure.

She pulled her hands away and brought them both to his face urgently, turning it forward. His hands left her, and she felt their absence acutely, his hand trembled as he brushed a lock of hair away from her face. Their breaths came in tight bursts.

"On the count of 3?" he whispered. The steadiness was gone from every part of him but his eyes.

"On the count of 3," she replied, trying to sound steady, but knowing what meaning Peeta was assigning these words. Peeta meant that they were doing this together, just as they had done with the berries. They needed to be willing to live together the way they were willing to die together, from the first arena onwards.

Katniss wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled herself up to whisper in his ear. Shaking with anticipation, she counted. "1," taking her time to ensure that she was ready for what was about to happen. "2." She had never felt quite this way before, perched on the cusp of something so life-changing, so wonderful. She took a deep, steadying breath, and closed her eyes. She leaned in him. "3."

Inch by slow inch, they pressed into one another. For a moment, she was completely lost, the sensation of being filled, of being completed, penetrated her being so entirely. It was only Peeta's voice that brought her back, as her name escaped his mouth in a low moan. She called his name back, her voice sounding thready, as she arched her hips up against him. It did not cross her mind to feel ashamed of the sounds escaping her lips. Her only focus was him, being closer, feeling more. They moved faster now, their rhythm careless but never out of sync as their bodies came together again and again. The heat within her rose and rose, until her only sensation seemed to be lightness, pleasure. She could hear him, his voice resonating into her, saying her name over and over. She felt his muscles tensing against hers, and he was suddenly very still, pulsing inside of her.

Katniss took in his face, searching it, memorizing it - his eyes squeezed tight with pleasure and exertion, mouth slightly agape, and hair falling suddenly still, sticking to his forehead due to the sheen of sweat that shown on his forehead. He was frozen, not moving, not even breathing. His face was beautiful, raw, and animal - perfect. Finally, his breath caught up to him, and he began to pant heavily, eyes fluttering open, mouth still hanging open.

Katniss simply stared on, watching his jaw flex, his eyes blink uncomprehendingly, and sweat drip down his cheek bones. She brought up a hand to push his hair back from his forehead. He felt hot, and damp, and her touch seemed to snap him from his trance. He immediately kissed her, again and again, planting small, needy pecks on her smiling lips.

Slowly, he pulled out of her, and her insides protested. She had not reached a climax like he had, though she had felt elation on a level she had never thought possible. She was content, but Peeta, selfless as ever, when he found his voice again apologized to her.

"I'm, I'm sorry, I couldn't- This is my first time so I'm..." he stammered, blushing.

"Sh..." she pressed a finger to his lips and shook her head, meeting his eyes, and trying to show on her face the love she felt swelling in her chest. It was strange, a counter pressure pushing her breastbone out, exactly opposite the pain that usually weighed down on her.

"Peeta," she began, but before she could continue, he clasped her hands and caught her eye, exhausted, but reflecting her feelings of devotion on his own face. He glanced down at her still throbbing center purposefully, and then back up at her.

"Is it okay if I..." he searched for the right word.

For the first time since she'd known him, Peeta was speechless. So was she. She nodded emphatically, wanting Peeta's kindness, his love to keep consuming her. She wasn't sure what he was going to do as he moved down to her thighs and sort of settled himself between them.

He delicately spread her, and began to rub up and down her. This sent calming, sweet, soft tingles up her legs to rest in the pit of her stomach. He prodded and probed, and his fingers felt good, strong yet gentle. He seemed to be searching for something, and the second he found it, she knew why. He pressed against the spot with his finger, and instantly, the blazing inferno inside her reignited and ravaged her from head to toe.

As he pressed on her, she began to writhe. She clutched the bed covers and he moved his finger in small circles. She moaned and cried out and tossed from side to side, but still the pressure inside her became greater and more insistent.

She gasped his name over and over, and when he parted her with both hands and brought his tongue to the spot that he had awakened, she could only hiss and take gulping breaths and choke out noises that sounded more like they came from a warbling songbird than a human being. The fire inside her overtook her mind as she pressed herself against him.

He clutched her hips, and his tongue, which spoke such eloquent things turned out to be quite articulate without having to say anything at all. Finally, she gave up on breathing, and moved against him with all the muscle she could borrow from her other limbs, which were taught with wave after overwhelming wave of hot, passionate, electricity. Her entire body rigid, she shrieked his name as a surge of feeling overcame her being, her vision went white, and she was pulsing too.

She pulled him from her opening up to her mouth, where she kissed him, tasting herself on his lips, licking the taste from his tongue. She held his face, squished against hers, not stopping the kiss to breathe until the throbbing inside her had subsided.

They held each others' tired, satisfied bodies in silent bliss for what seemed like the entire afternoon, though she knew from watching the movement of the sunlight across the floor that it couldn't have been more than an hour. When he spoke again, his voice seemed almost back to normal: "You love me, real or not real?"

There was a long quiet moment, as she carefully locked eyes with him. Then, she quietly intoned: "Real."

More silence, though shorter, followed. They held each other and touched each other and stared into each other's eyes until they heard, in the distance, the whistle that announced that the train that carried Madge and Gale and their daughter had arrived.

It was startling, and Peeta and Katniss both sprung out of bed as if they had been caught doing something wrong. They looked at each other, and then glanced out the window to confirm the sound. It came again, and they knew it was time to get ready. The ½ mile journey from the square to the Victor's Village would not allow them much time to dress, and Peeta had made a Savory Chicken and Vegetable pie that needed to go in the oven before Madge and Gale arrived.

She turned away from the window without a word, and he caught her hand.

"Katniss..." He whispered breathlessly. His voice sounded tight, and she turned to him. He was fighting back tears.

She looked at him, face strained. Had she done something wrong? Already? She waited for him to continue.

"I just-," he admitted lamely. "I never thought we would do this... that's all."

She pulled his hand to her lips and gave it a kiss and squeeze, and he released it. She didn't know what to say. If someone had asked her, even a week ago if she and Peeta would have sex, she probably would have said no.

She went into the bathroom, and heard him dress and move downstairs to clang around in the kitchen. As she braided up her hair, she decided it was okay that she hadn't gone into the woods, and that ultimately it was better that she only had a short time to fuss over what she looked like. She thought about Gale, and what it would be like to see him. She hadn't bothered to figure out how she would be around him. Her thoughts drifted to herself and Peeta. They hadn't chosen one another as normal people did - perhaps even as Gale and Madge did.

It was easy to think that if their lives had gone better, if the odds had been in their favor, that maybe they would never have fallen in love at all. She used to be confused by this, especially with Gale in the picture. She and Peeta needed one another because no one else in the world could ever understand what it meant to have survived what they had.

Their dedication to one another was born not out of romance, but compassion. When Katniss could have killed him, any of the multitude times it might have benefitted her to end his life. When Peeta, against all odds, sat brokenly in chains, begging for her to kill him, though the very best in science and technology had trained him to kill her. They were bound together by this mutual compassion, the very idea that humans can protect one another, keep one another alive. Their love began out of necessity, grew through compassion and finally, had been consummated by choice.

She realized as she finished her braid, that the idea of seeing Gale was no longer scary, or confusing to her in the slightest, because what she and Peeta had wasn't ideal. Maybe it wasn't terribly romantic. But it was real.


	20. Eight Trees

CHAPTER 20: Eight Trees

It was the Reaping. That was how Katniss felt as she straightened the collar of Peeta's ill-fitting shirt. Despite their boxes upon boxes of tailored, flawless clothing designed for them by Portia and Cinna, they had decided that they wanted to meet Gale and Madge as citizens of District 12, not as Victors of the Hunger Games.

Peeta wore a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up - though white was a generous color assessment of the coal-dusted garment. His black slacks were faded, and threadbare in the knees, but fit him well. His hair, which, just that morning had been a mess of blonde curls had been mussed with the activities of the afternoon, and so was slicked back, just as it had been the day that he had been reaped with Katniss for the 74th Hunger Games.

Katniss wore, with regret, her self-same Reaping dress - one of the few remaining clothes she had from before winning the games and moving to the Victor's Village. She wore her hunting boots, laced up to her knees, and her hair was down, falling in gentle waves down her back, thanks to Peeta's assistance taming it. That, at least, was different from the Reaping.

All in all though, their clothing was dingy, their hair simple, their faces bare, and their hands clasped - nervously awaiting the uncertainties of the next few hours. It was exactly like the Reaping, especially when they welcomed Gale and Madge into their home.

Like Effie Trinket and her escorts had when she entered District 12, they looked out of place. That was the first thing that Katniss noticed, before a "hello" had even passed their lips. Katniss was not prepared for this - the feeling that Madge and Gale were invaders, rather than guests in their home. She hadn't expected them to look so... processed.

Madge's hair was in curls, pinned up at the back of her head and falling down at the nape of her neck to rest between her shoulder blades. She wore make up, Katniss could see, soft pinks and golds, not unlike she herself had worn the night Peeta proposed to her in front of all of Panem. Her dress was fitted in the bodice, with cap sleeves and flowing skirt, made of rich fabrics like velvet and real silk. It was a deep green, like the forest. Katniss noted this with a squeeze of Peeta's hand, swallowing the jealousy that rose bitterly in her throat.

Gale himself was... almost too much to take in.

He wore a tailored suit with a strange collar. It was grey with embroidered leaves to match Madge's dress down the lapels. He wore a black, button up shirt, and grey pants that somehow made him look taller and leaner than she knew him to be - maybe he was, she realized with a start.

As he reached out to shake hands with Peeta, she heard a strange noise. A click. Her head instinctively tracked the sound to its source, Gale's shoes. He wore square-toed, black shoes - and they were shiny like a slick of oil. Her eyes snapped back up to his face, which smiled with practiced ease as he and Peeta locked hands.

This Gale was no longer from District 12.

She had so little time to process what this actually meant before Madge was embracing her. It was a soft, foreign, feeling. Madge's skin was impossibly soft as they brushed cheeks, and her arms held Katniss fast, but were also so forgiving. Madge smelled earthy, and sweet, not like she used to - like the wildflowers of the meadow. Katniss assessed it must be some sort of perfume, when Madge broke their embrace to hold her at arm's' length, with tears brimming her eyes.

"It's so good to see you, Katniss," she said quietly, then turned to hug Peeta, and then Gale was hugging her too - a firm, quick embrace. Long enough for her to notice that he smelled of clean clothes and shoe polish. No leather, no pine. She accepted his hug and patted him on the back, then gave him a weak smile. She was relieved when Peeta's hand slipped back into hers.

The shiny, almost-Capitol pair was difficult to reconcile with the only two people who had been her childhood companions. Madge, who had only worn pretty dresses for reaping day, and Gale who had surely never dressed well until this very moment, as far as Katniss was concerned. There were several moments in which they all only stared at one another in various states of attempted smiles, relearning faces, examining one another - all in awe of the way their old friends had become new.

"Momma," cooed a small, high voice, insisting to be recognized.

The smile that broke Gale's face was like nothing Katniss had ever seen from him before, as he stepped aside, revealing the tiny, dark haired girl clinging to his crisp pants. How had she not seen her before? She was dressed like a miniature of Madge, though her looks were all Gale, down to the sharpness of her jaw, the curl of her hair, her tiny little nose. Katniss's breath caught in her throat, and she clasped Peeta's hand more tightly than was probably necessary.

"Why don't you introduce yourself, dear?" Madge offered, carefully adjusting the green bow in her daughter's beautiful curly hair, the same look of incredible love on her face. Peeta squeezed Katniss' hand gently and when she looked up to him, Katniss pretended she couldn't see the look of longing on his face. Peeta did not have to tell her in words how much he wanted children of his own. Today was not the day to have that talk. This year was not the year.

"Pleased to meet you," the little girl explained, rather formally, "My name is Maysilee and my favorite color is purple. We live in District Two," she scrunched up her face, and then added "they said the train moves very fast but it still took us a long time to get here. It's okay though, we found the mountains again anyway."

Katniss knelt down to her level and looked at her carefully. She didn't know what she had been expecting, it had never occurred to her that Gale and Madge's daughter was, in fact, her own little person with interests and feelings. Upon closer inspection, Maysilee seemed a sort of kindred to Katniss - grey seam eyes, constellation of freckles bridging her tiny nose, and honestly, at the moment, she seemed to be the only one who made any sense.

"Hi Maysilee, I'm Katniss and my favorite color is green. This is Peeta, and his favorite color is orange. What kind of purple is your favorite?"

Maysilee made a thoughtful face so much like the face Madge had made when they had a particularly difficult math problem to solve, that Katniss almost laughed out loud, but sufficed to wrinkle her nose and bite her lip the way she did sometimes to hold in a sneeze.

"Do you have bushes at your house? We have some bushes at our house and they grow these lil-lick flowers and they are _beautiful_," Maysilee's face was very serious, but she could not hide the excitement in her voice. "I love that purple they are. My dolly has a dress she loves, too, and it's almost the same as the lil-lick flowers. But I guess it's not fair to like one purple more than the other ones. They are all _very_ beautiful," she said seriously, as if concerned she would hurt someone's feelings, "do you have a favorite green?"

"No," Katniss said, "I think I like all of the greens. But your dress is a great color. It looks like it's easy to play in too." Katniss fluffed the bottom of the dress a bit, to emphasize the ease of movement.

"It is," she said seriously, but could not hide her happiness at getting so much attention from an adult, and a smile crept onto her face, "I love to play chase and house and hunting. Momma told me that you know all about the forest, is that true?"

"I suppose so. I like the forest a lot," Katniss thought about just earlier today, when she had avoided the leafy arms of the woods and ended up in Peeta's instead. To keep herself from blushing, she turned back to the little girl, "Do you go into the forest where you live?"

"No," she said solemnly, disappointment etched on her face. "I am too small, but we do have a garden, and that's pretty good?" she offered hopefully, with just another hint of a smile.

"Well, maybe I can take you into the forest, just a little bit, if you want to. If your mom says it's okay."

Maysilee's entire face lit up, "Really?" her eyes were huge and hopeful, and Katniss felt pinches of regret, that Prim would have loved, loved this child.

"Yeah," Katniss teased, "if you have any clothes that can go in the forest, I don't think you want to risk this nice one."

Maysilee was clearly pleased by this, and swished her dress shyly. "It is nice, isn't it? I know. My momma let me pick it out. She said I could have it," her voice dropped to a very loud whisper that was clearly audible to everyone around her, "so long as I never told daddy how many it cost."

Katniss had to stifle her laughter and heard Peeta coughing to cover up the quick burst of laughter that had escaped him. Katniss glanced up at Gale, who looked somewhat baffled and was torn between glaring at Madge, who looked decidedly embarrassed, and blinking astoundedly at Maysilee, all wide-eyed innocence.

"And I never did tell him!" She announced proudly, with another swish of her dress.

"You are a very smart girl," Katniss proclaimed, "How old are you, then?"

Maysilee, who seemed to be nearly in love with Katniss, held up her tiny hand with her thumb tucked down, "I will be four in nine days! I am going to have a birthday party when we get back to two and invite all of my friends. Can you come? I can get you a green party hat! Do you know Finn? Him and his moms are going to come too. He is my very best friend."

Katniss shook her head mutely. The number caught Katniss completely off guard. Maysilee was nearly four... three years had passed since the end of the rebellion, four years had passed since the Quell, just this July. Peeta's words came back to her like a ton of coal, _they had sex._ She had seen Maysilee on television, but never put the pieces together. Maysilee was conceived _months_ before the Quell.

All of the guilt and the doubt that Gale had instilled in her for what she was doing with Peeta, and he was doing that... was having sex with Madge. Katniss bit her lip again, to keep from screaming. More than Gale's treatment of her, what about Madge? She counted in her mind, the hours spent with Gale in the forest, training, talking, and even the few kisses they'd shared between the Tour and the Quell. She combined these images with the naked, vulnerable feeling she'd experienced after having sex with Peeta.

Gale had slept with Madge, only to spend all of his time chasing after Katniss like a predator chases prey. He had been so focused on Katniss, had he thought about Madge at all? Madge who was carrying their child - his child - in secrecy? Alone?

Katniss's thought of Madge, fighting through the snowstorm with her mother's medicine, bringing the paper to their Quarter Quell training sessions - quiet, supportive, and filled with love for Katniss, and concern. She had watched Gale do this, felt Gale abandoning her. Katniss found that trying to imagine this tragedy, and the loneliness it must have brought Madge gave her a dull ache, like the aftermath of being hit very hard.

Her eyes fell upon Madge, who was studying Gale with a tight, controlled expression. She held her arms around herself, and fiddled with a loose thread on her dress. Madge's eyes met Katniss's for just a moment, and darted away. Madge was insecure even now, even after their daughter, and their engagement about Gale's preference for Katniss. Luckily, Katniss was practiced at losing people's favor.

As if sensing something, Peeta put his hand on her shoulder,

"Maysilee, would you do me a favor?" Katniss asked, in her best secret voice, recalled from years and years ago and reached her hand out, which Maysilee stepped quickly forward and grasped, nodding her head seriously and fervently, sensing none of the intensity around her.

"Good," Katniss said, "Now this is very important. Can you count?"

"Yes! To twenty!" She reported.

"Good. Perfect. I need you to turn around for just one moment, I want you to look very carefully into the woods and count as many trees as you can, when you get to twenty, you go ahead and turn back around. Can you do that?"

"Yes," Maysilee said and took several steps closer to the woods.

Katniss could feel everyone's eyes on her as Maysilee obediently turned around and began to count loudly.

"One tree."

Katniss got to her feet and dusted the soot from her dress where she had been kneeling.

"Two trees,"

She avoided the gaze of the other adults, who apparently were too dumbfounded for questions.

"Three trees."

Then, she looked Gale straight in the eye.

"Four trees."

It was as it had been; no words had to pass between them.

"Five trees."

Then, Katniss reeled back and punched Gale in the face with a closed fist, throwing as much power and meaning into the gesture as she could, just as Maysilee called out,

"Six trees."

Peeta sucked in a loud, deep breath, and Madge let out a tiny shriek.

"Seven trees,"

Gale only put his hand to his face and met Katniss with a rye smile, as if to say, _fair enough._

"Eight trees,"

Katniss did not have to explain, he knew exactly where that had come from.

"Oh-kay then!" Peeta said too loudly, "Gale! Why don't I take you into town and show you the new shops. I meant to pick up a bottle of wine to go with dinner anyway."

"I saw a bird, Katniss, but what was that noise?" Maysilee called out, "should I turn around?"

"You bet," Katniss replied, "Eight trees was just perfect," she said, shaking her hand, knowing it would turn black and blue soon enough.

As Peeta led Gale away, sure to keep his face diverted from Maysilee's view, Peeta looked back at Katniss with a million questions in his eyes. They could be answered later.

"Don't hurry back!" Katniss responded, hoping sincerely that there would be several good hours until she had to look Gale in the eyes again, and then, deliberately, she added, "I love you." She didn't say this for Peeta's benefit, but for her own. She wanted to rub salt in Gale's wound. Gale's head snapped around and his scowl told her that she'd succeeded, but when her eyes found Peeta again, he looked reproachful.

Of course she'd taken it too far. He had merely questioned, not judged, when she hit Gale, but using Peeta to hurt Gale further was childish, and she knew it. She didn't feel better at all. Her stomach turned, and her hand ached as the door closed, and she ran out of reasons to face away from Madge and Maysilee. She took a deep breath and prepared herself to explain, to apologize, to just get through it and get to the end of it.

This was going to be a long couple of days.


	21. Enough Punching for a Lifetime

CHAPTER 21: Enough Punching for a Lifetime

Gale touched his fingers to his cheek gingerly, wincing away from them as a fresh sting of pain reminded him that he might walk down the aisle with a black eye. He let out a pained breath and flexed his fist, bringing it to rest at his side as he and Peeta travelled the ½ mile road from the Victor's Village to the main square of District 12.

This was a walk he was familiar with. He had taken it with Katniss many times after her first Games. Absentmindedly, he felt a pang of familiar longing in his chest.

Why was it, that even though he was about to marry Madge, he couldn't help but wish things were different with Katniss? Every single time he took this walk with Katniss, he remembered, he wanted something more. He had wanted her to stop, throw her arms around him, and admit that she couldn't stand it any longer; that Peeta meant nothing to her, and that she wanted him and no one else. And even now, after talking to Johanna, knowing what Peeta's death would have meant for Katniss's future, part of him still wished that things had gone differently.

Maybe that was always the problem. Peeta had never expected Katniss to leave Gale behind, even if it might have made things less complicated for them. Gale recalled, the best he could, through the flashes of pain and bouts of unconsciousness how Peeta had helped Katniss get Gale back to her house in the Victor's Village after his whipping. Would Gale have done the same for him?

He remembered Peeta being there, sending Katniss to bed after she had fallen asleep at his side... after she had kissed him. Peeta had stayed, had watched over Gale, tenderly even. Changed the cloth on his forehead, helped him drink some water, and brought bread for the Katniss's family to ensure that they remembered to eat while they were so focused on saving Gale's life.

He had accused Peeta then, in a weak, drug-hazed voice, "You probably hoped I wouldn't make it through the night, huh?" It was what Gale would have wished for him. Peeta, out of the picture, with no one to blame but the Capitol.

Peeta had looked at him, and kept for a few moments, the most profound silence. When he finally spoke, it was with a clear, strong voice, though agony colored the tone. "No, Gale. Of course not." Gale could remember the sad look in his eyes with shocking clarity as he finished, "I'm glad you're alive."

He cast a sidelong glance at Peeta, taking in the man whom Katniss had chosen over him. Peeta was shorter than he was, stockier, though not by much anymore. He never seemed to put back the weight that he lost in his time in the Capitol. Gale had never really seen Peeta's appeal. Physically, certainly, Gale knew that he himself was more handsome than Peeta, but then again, had Gale ever bothered to wonder what else there was to Peeta?

Sure he had. He just hadn't come up with anything. Peeta couldn't hunt, couldn't seem to protect Katniss worth a damn, or even himself. He had never understood what Peeta offered Katniss except that he was "nice." All Peeta was was nice. Gale could be nice. He was nice to Madge wasn't he? And Maysilee?

With a pang of guilt, Gale realized that he wasn't. Back when he wanted Katniss to declare her undying affections for him, to run away with him into the woods, and never to look back, it already would have been too late. Madge was already pregnant with Maysilee, who, at the time was growing inside Madge with each passing walk that he and Katniss took. He was the one who ensured that there was no going back to way things were before the Games. The fault was his, not Katniss's, and not Peeta's, and not the Capitol's.

No, he hadn't been nice to Madge at all.

Still, he wished Katniss hadn't punched him. Maybe he would never stop wanting something different from her. What did he want from her? Not romance certainly, but, what? The pain in his cheek that came from being slugged in the face by his best friend would subside, but the tightness in his chest might last the rest of his life. Gale hissed at the collective pain and kicked a rock as they passed by.

He became aware the Peeta had stopped walking, and spun around to face him. Peeta's face was strange. He was obviously studying Gale, intensely. Apparently, he hadn't been the only one deep in thought. Pity began to creep across Peeta's features. Gale couldn't stand it. When would Katniss stop hurting him, and when would Peeta stop being nice about it?

"You probably think I deserved it, huh?" he spat, with much more venom than he intended.

Peeta smiled, sadly. "No Gale, of course not."

Gale's body moved before he could comprehend enough to try to stop it. A burning anger surged through him, reaching his limbs before his mouth, and his mouth before his mind. With the full force that Katniss had used to hurt him, he threw a punch at Peeta, shouting profanities at him as he did so.

Unlike Gale, however, Peeta had survived the Hunger Games, twice, and caught the punch with surprising deftness for how clumsy he could be on his feet.

Gale found himself shaking, not from exertion, but from the unmistakable feeling that he had been emotionally eviscerated. He found himself feeling weak, confused, and vulnerable. He readied another string of profanities, and found his target - Peeta's face, tense, but still not angry.

For some reason, at this, Gale's voice caught in his throat, and all he managed was a strangled growl as he tried to jerk his fist away, but Peeta held it, with considerable effort. Gale struggled, but Peeta's face remained unchanged. Perhaps it took some amount of focus for him to stay steady.

This was a part of Peeta that Gale had not considered. His assumption had always been that Peeta just 'was' nice. The idea that Peeta was nice because he worked so damn hard to be was not something that had crossed his mind. Gale's confusion must have shown on his face, because Peeta took the opportunity for a deep, calming breath, preparing finally his verbal retort to Gale's violence.

"I'm going to let you go, but you can't do that again." The way he said it was cautionary, but not threatening. Gale remembered suddenly that Peeta was severely mentally damaged, and rather unstable as a result of his hijacking. Surely he had gotten better in the time that had passed, but physical violence was probably still a trigger for him.

"Fine." Gale barked, jerking away again, successful this time, as Peeta released his fist willingly.

Gale rubbed at his hand, and spoke the words before he could regret them, "I'm sorry."

Peeta inhaled again, betraying how hard it was to stay calm and be nice under the circumstances. When he did let his breath out, it came, surprisingly, with a laugh.

"I think it's been a hard day for all of us so far," he admitted.

Gale brought his hand to his cheek, "You can say that again."

Peeta looked at him cockeyed, and seemed to choose his next words carefully, as he offered, "That hurt?"

"Yeah," Gale shrugged. "No." He brought his hand down. "I don't know."

"I don't think she did it for her. Or even for me, if that helps." Peeta considered, and turned on his heel to continue towards the Square. "I think she did it for Madge."

Gale was surprised. He wasn't sure exactly where he thought Katniss was coming from when she hit him. He had assumed it had more to do with Prim or how they'd left things in District 13. Of course, he had never viewed Katniss as being selfless, which seemed to be how Peeta thought of her.

After taking this walk, if she had hit him for Madge, Gale decided that it might even be okay with him.

He knew, however, that this was not a problem to solve at present. He considered himself to be a man of few words, and so this conversation would take time, and would mostly continue to play itself out in his head, rather than with another person - least of all Peeta Mellark. Maybe he could even slip off to the woods later, or find the ruins of his old home to think it over.

There was one more thing he needed to know before their walk could continue, so, even though Peeta was about 10 feet ahead of him, he stayed put as he called, "Did she mean it? When she said she loved you? Or was it just to hurt me?"

Peeta stopped, and turned to face off with Gale. "Not in that moment. That was just to hurt you, and yes, it did hurt me too." Peeta's voice was hard and direct when he continued, making it clear that he would not be answering this question, or any others like it again, "But yes. Katniss loves me." He said it with a great deal of finality, and for the first time, he looked angry - not angry perhaps, but firm. The unspoken ending to Peeta's answer was that Gale showing up was not going to change the feelings between him and Katniss.

Gale was surprised that Peeta's certainty made him feel better, rather than worse. He nodded and caught up to Peeta, who waited for him. As Gale reached him, Peeta's face changed, losing its hardness to assume a softer, more amiable look.

"Now," Peeta smiled, "Katniss and I don't really drink, because we don't need anything to increase the likelihood of nightmares, flashbacks, or hijacked episodes." He said this with such good humor that Gale couldn't help but do a double-take. Peeta turned his smiling face towards Gale, who looked away uncomfortably. He and Madge never talked so openly about such morbid things.

Peeta gave him a good-natured - but pointedly hard - slap on the back as he explained, "So you'll have to help me pick something out to go with dinner."

"S-sure." Gale tried to keep his composure, which was fragile, since it had just barely been regained.

"And..." Peeta paused, "I thought Annie and Johanna had come on the same train? I made enough food for a dinner for all of us plus Haymitch. Are they going to be joining us later or have plans changed?"

Gale shook his head no, and quickly followed up, "They- we brought a few of our friends from 2 and my family is coming in later this evening. Beetee will be in tomorrow, too. Annie and Johanna are helping to get everyone set up at a Bed and Breakfast in town. They- Johanna said that the Bride and Groom shouldn't have to worry about the logistics of things for their own wedding."

"Right," Peeta smiled genuinely, though his words were very deliberate. "They should just worry about being happy."

"Right." Gale nodded, and so he did. He willed some of the confusion from his mind, and as they reached the Square, found himself genuinely excited to see the progress that had been made on rebuilding the town. "So since when does 12 have a Bed and Breakfast anyway?"

Gale and Peeta toured the new 12 thoroughly. They went into each of the shops, some of which were owned and operated by Gale's old friends. Others recognized him from the rebellion or his recent TV appearances. He was hugged and congratulated by almost everyone they saw, and even invited a few more people to the ceremony, including Greasy Sae, Thom, and Delly, who he hadn't seen since 13, but who was so enthusiastic about the idea of his getting married that she cried about it for nearly a half an hour.

By the time they had passed by the construction zone of the factory that was being built to manufacture medicine and even made the loop to both the old entrances to the still smoking coal mines, Gale was emotionally and physically exhausted. Hiding out in the back of the small Grocer and reading the labels on the various wine bottles seemed to Gale to be a well-deserved and greatly-appreciated break.

By the time he had read yet another bottle of white wine claiming to be "oaky" and "complex" with "a smooth finish" his head began to spin - he and Peeta had only managed to ascertain that chicken was supposed to be served with white wine rather than red, and they had been there nearly 45 minutes.

Finally Gale admitted, "I don't think I'll be much help here. Madge is always the one who does this kind of thing. You should have brought her."

"Naw," Peeta smiled, glancing back and forth between two bottles nonchalantly, "I wanted to spend some time with you. Besides, we still have to think of what you tripped into so Maysilee doesn't find out that my wife punched her daddy in the face."

There it was. Gale had forgotten that Peeta's greatest skill had always been not his painting, nor his baking, but his words. He had made a harmless, casual mention - not out of place, not hurtful, just matter of fact. 'My wife.' The way that he himself would refer to Madge in a matter of days. His mind filled with questions, when, how, why, but they tangled on his tongue, and he knew that he would never ask any of them.

He had been wrong, earlier when he thought Peeta's answer was complete. This was Peeta's answer. 'Yes, Katniss loves me. No, you're not going to change that... because she is my wife.' After Gale's conversation with Johanna on the train, he knew that the bond between of marriage was one that he could never bring himself to disrespect. Instead of asking one of the million questions eating away at him, he asked, "Oh yeah? You wanted to spend time with me?"

"Yes." Peeta set down the bottles and picked up another one.

"Why?" Gale copied Peeta's motions with the wine bottles, so as not to seem as floored as he was by the news that Katniss was married to him.

"Because you and I never..." Peeta chewed his lip, thoughtfully, "Connected really. Except that one night when we talked about Katniss, and the time you gave me Nightlock pills."

Gale shrugged, "Why does that matter to you?"

"Well," Peeta finally set down the bottles and dropped the pretense of picking more up, "Because you're still important to Katniss, even if she doesn't realize that right now, and because I grew up with Madge. She and I were never best friends, but I care for her, and you're marrying her. It just seems that you're important to people who are important to me, and so... I should try to find a way to make you important to me too."

Gale also set his wine bottles down, mind feeling cloudy, confused with all of the thoughts that Peeta was filling it with. He was important to Katniss? Still? Maybe that was the 'different' that he wanted to be after all. The idea certainly made him feel better, if only he could believe it. If Peeta was bothering to say this, it was for his benefit, so it must be true. He allowed himself to consider the possibility as he smirked weakly, "So what's the verdict then?"

Peeta looked at him, earnestly. This caught Gale off guard. Honest, direct people like Madge and Peeta always seemed to get under his skin. He realized numbly how similar Madge and Peeta were to each other. "I like you."

Gale realized that he had actually been holding his breath, waiting for Peeta's answer. He let it out, as he asked, "Oh yeah?"

Peeta nodded, "Yeah."

Gale smiled, and then sighed heavily. "Alright. Enough of this. Neither of us has any idea about this wine thing."

"That's for damn sure," Peeta laughed. For some reason the idea of Peeta cursing was funny to Gale. He was just full of surprises. Drawing a parallel between Peeta and Madge had suddenly made it very easy to understand what Peeta saw in Katniss besides, 'nice,' and had made it easier for Gale to see too.

"There's not that much here." Gale had counted somewhere around 60 bottles of wine in the small area where they were kept. "We need some for the wedding anyway, so let's just get it all. Johanna and Haymitch could probably polish off half of it between the two of them," he shrugged, and added, while he was being honest, "And hell, I can probably make quite a dent myself."

Peeta cocked a reproachful eyebrow, but couldn't hide the smile on his face.

"And besides," Gale puffed his chest out a bit, "I'm getting married. This calls for a celebration."

"Right." Peeta gave a nod, and with that, Gale paid the shop keeper, who was tickled at the great pile of coins that Gale gave her for the lot, and they packed up a cart with the entire stock of wine in District 12.

They picked up a few more items for the evening: cheeses for a before dinner snack, some jams so Peeta could make window pane cookies for dessert, and mixes for Hot Chocolate for Finn and Maysilee, and probably Katniss too. They bought and loaded up a cart, the kind Peeta used to haul large bags of flour back and forth to town, and began the trek back to the Victor's Village.

The sun was beginning to set, and as Gale and Peeta made their way, the light cast their shadows, long and distorted, on the gravel path. Gale found himself enjoying the fading warmth of the sun, and the comfortable silence that had fallen between him and Peeta. They took turns with the cart, even though the trip was short. They had walked a great distance that day, and neither felt like being macho and pulling the heavy cart the whole way.

Just before they reached the edge of the Victor's Village, Gale knew it was time to speak, or forever hold his peace. "For what its worth," he cleared his throat. "I like you too." Peeta stopped and looked at Gale, wiping his brow on the sleeve of his shirt.

He reached out to Gale, offering a handshake, and smiled, "Well, thank you."

They shared a firm but meaningful handshake, and then, with a bit more haste, made the rest of their way back to Peeta and Katniss's home in the Victors' Village. By now, he hoped, Katniss had quieted her anger enough that this night could be pleasant. Wandering 12 with Peeta today had made him excited to share dinner with the people with whom he would share his wedding.

* * *

><p>Madge struggled to control her features as Katniss turned away from the door through which Peeta, and a very shell shocked Gale, had passed. There would be time to be surprised, to ask questions, later. As her face came into view, Katniss looked a bit shell-shocked herself. Madge pursed her lips and prepared to speak, but Maysilee beat her to the punch.<p>

"Can we go to the woods now?" she asked Katniss, not noticing that the mood of the room had changed.

Katniss looked at Madge, helplessly. Madge found her voice automatically, though her insides felt numb. "Honey, it's been a big day so far, and there's more to come. I think it would be best if you had a nap first."

"Oh," Maysilee seemed, at first, to accept this. "Is Katniss going to take a nap?"

"No honey," Madge cast a quick glance at Katniss to confirm this. Katniss shook her head no. "Grown-ups don't have to take naps."

"Well," Maysilee, as stubborn and as volatile as her father, immediately changed her mind. "Then I don't want to take a nap either." She crossed her arms across her chest and looked challengingly up at her mother.

Madge took a deep breath. "Remember what we talked about before we left? Sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do."

"Nu-uh!" Maysilee argued, rather finally. Great, she was digging her heels in, showing off for Katniss.

"Maysilee, if you don't take a nap now, you won't be able to make it through dinner." Madge tried to bargain with her, to make it look like there was a payoff to her nap besides giving her mother and Katniss some time alone - which seemed to be the opposite of what she was interested in doing.

Maysilee gave her best scowl, looking, suddenly, even more like Gale than she already did. "Daddy will let me come to dinner. He never says no."

Katniss cleared her throat, and then began tentatively, with a quick sidelong glance at Madge, "Maysilee, you know... I don't take naps because I can't, not because I don't want to."

"What?" Maysilee dropped her arms, confused.

"Yeah," Katniss continued awkwardly, leaning against the door, "Grown-ups... We're really tired too, but we just have too many boring grown-up things to do." The word 'grown-up' came out awkwardly, and it was clear that Katniss had never used the phrase before, perhaps never even heard it until Madge had used it moments ago. "In fact, I could really use a nap, but your mom and I have so many... wedding things to do." She stammered. "I'm really jealous that you get to take one."

Maysilee was young, but smart. She was suspicious. "Wedding stuff like what?" She wasn't quite antagonizing Katniss, just making it very clear that she was onto her ploy - that is, if there was one.

Madge racked her brain for Maysilee's least favorite thing, which was helping with the laundry. "We have so many napkins to fold, right Katniss? And tablecloths, you know."

Katniss's head began to nod before she found words, giving her an almost humorous, delayed effect as she said weakly, "So many... and... flowers."

Maysilee seemed to consider this answer, and apparently assessed it as plausible enough when she caved, "Okay... I guess. If you promise I can sit by Katniss at dinner."

Madge argued, despite herself, "But you always sit by Daddy at dinner."

"So I'll sit between them," Maysilee explained as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. She crossed her arms to make it clear that this was her final offer.

Madge bit her lip. The idea of Maysilee sitting between Gale and Katniss was incredibly uncomfortable to her. After all, Katniss would be taking Madge's spot. Madge could picture, Maysilee feeding them both bites of her dinner, and needing help cutting her meat or buttering her bread. The idea of Maysilee asking for Katniss's help with these tasks was enough to bring Madge to tears.

She blinked them away quickly. What could she do? "Sure honey," she gave her assent with altogether too much effort.

"Okay!" Maysilee chirped, not even noticing Madge's distress as she took Katniss's hand and began to walk with her out of the kitchen. Madge began to protest, but Maysilee interrupted her.

"It's okay Mom," she assured, "Katniss will tuck me in." Madge hated when Maysilee called her 'mom.' She only said it dismissively, whereas 'momma' was Madge's title when she was happy with her.

Katniss gave Madge a panicked look, but as Maysilee led her from the kitchen, she assured her, "I'll just be a minute."

Madge leaned on the table and took a steadying breath. Tears threatened her eyes again, and she wrapped her arms around herself, feeling more out of place than ever in the kitchen where she had spent hours with Katniss and her family when they were girls.

She couldn't figure out why it upset her so that Maysilee had this sort of 'crush' on Katniss. Wasn't that the way it had always been? Everyone had always loved Katniss - everyone, including Maysilee's father. Maybe it ran in the family. Maybe it shouldn't surprise her that even though Madge was the one who cooked, cleaned, and took care of her family that they should prefer Katniss anyway.

She tried to shake this thought as she heard soft singing coming from down the hall. She absent-mindedly followed the voice, so warm and familiar. She could remember spending time playing the piano to this voice, following it through the woods. Though the Katniss who welcomed Madge into her home didn't look like the Katniss Madge knew, she still sounded like her.

Madge peaked in the door and watched Katniss, perched on the side of the bed, stroking Maysilee's hair from her face, and singing softly, "Deep in the meadow... under the willow..." Madge suppressed a gasp as she noticed the tears streaming down Katniss's face, and tremors in her hands.

She quickly moved back to the kitchen to leave Katniss in peace to finish her song. Instead, Madge busied herself making tea for them, since she knew where everything was in the kitchen anyway. She was surprised, however, at the various unrecognizable spices that nearly spilled out when she opened the cupboard to find tea.

Just as she was awkwardly fished out a few tea bags and struggled to push the spices back in, Katniss re-entered the kitchen behind her. "I keep telling Peeta he needs to reorganize that cupboard."

Madge shut it and hugged the tea bags tight to her chest. "What are all those spices for?"

Katniss smiled timidly, "We've... started a bakery cart. Not as much work as his parents' bakery, but... it keeps us busy."

"Ah," was all Madge could say.

The water began to whistle, and Katniss turned grabbed it from the stove. Madge noticed she was moving awkwardly with the teakettle, but then saw that Katniss's dominant hand had begun to turn purple and blue.

Madge realized she felt incredibly tired already, and wedding preparations hadn't even really begun. Though Maysilee and Madge had full days of playing, keeping the house clean and occasional baking, mostly Madge was content to sit quietly. In the several years that had slipped by since she and Gale came to live together, she had grown accustomed to tranquil days with her little daughter, who could be equally silent, when she wanted to. All this travel, and this less than glorious reunion in 12 was incredibly taxing.

Madge wasn't sure exactly what had been behind Katniss's violent outburst, but the past few days on the train and the past few years with her soon-to-be-husband had almost brought her to the same point at least a handful of times. As far as Madge was concerned, Gale had probably experienced much worse, and probably didn't deserve much better than a punch square in the face every now and again, not that Madge was going to ever be the one to deliver it. Honestly, she loved him entirely too much to lash out at him, her stubborn, smart, dangerous, handsome, ridiculous fiancé. Perhaps _deserved _was a harsh word. But he had a good tendency to get punched, whether he deserved it or not.

Quite frankly, after years of separation from Katniss, whom Madge knew from watching two Hunger Games and countless rebel propos, she was no longer simply the quiet huntress she had grown up with. Katniss could absolutely kill on sight when necessary, so punch in the face for however many years of transgressions seemed fairly lenient. Madge wanted to pretend that the things Katniss had done didn't bother her. She knew Gale had done most of the same things, and possibly with less remorse, but she hadn't watched him doing them on live television. Maybe it was different because she saw Gale's gentleness, and his very real vulnerability on a regular basis. The last image she had of Katniss was the footage from her trial, after she had assassinated the president, hysterical, screaming for Gale to kill her.

So she was just a little surprised when Katniss whispered to her,

"I am..._so_sorry." The hurt in her voice was so apparent that Madge suppressed the urge to reach out for her.

"Don't worry about it; Gale's come home with much worse. We'll get some ice on it and..."

"Not that," Katniss interrupted, "I meant... four years. If I had known I never, _never_,"

Of course she was being honest. Perhaps Katniss would have even welcomed Madge as a reason to choose Peeta, had she known, though probably not, realistically. They were all so young at the time, every decision seemed so monumentally important - and most were. It was hard to know what they wanted, hard to choose. In light of recent events, Madge realized that maybe it didn't get easier as they got older, as she would have assumed.

"But you didn't, because we didn't tell you. Gale and I made our own decisions." Madge avoided eye contact with Katniss, and instead poured them each a cup of tea. She sat down at the table with her and took a steady, leveling breath. She and Katniss had never talked about boys. It was like an unspoken agreement, since they were little. But they weren't little, and the males in their lives were no longer boys, but men.

And they themselves were older too. Women, she supposed, though it was easier to view herself this way than Katniss, since she had given birth and Katniss sat across from her in the same dress she was reaped in at the age of 16. Madge knew this was a time for honesty, but also for discretion, so she made her explanation brief, and clear.

"We watched your first games together. I don't know if you knew that. The first time we kissed was in the middle of the night, right before the feast. When you were away on the victory tour, Gale came to me, the night Peeta proposed to you. And you said yes. So it seemed that even though I knew Gale was in love with you, that night, he told me that he had come to see _me._I believed him."

Katniss was frowning deeply, still seething, it seemed. "I can't tell you all of the times he kissed me or tried to kiss me or told me he loved me after then. When we were in Thirteen..." her voice broke off in what sounded like frustration.

"I know," Madge offered. "When Gale came to find us in 2, we- all 3 of us were lost, and we found each other, and that was good enough." Madge tried to say this calmly, without any malice. She wasn't sure how it had come across, but Katniss's face seemed to stay the same, all shame and concern. "He did apologize, but I don't feel like holding it over his head, trying to make him feel like he has to make up for it, because he can't. So we moved on."

Katniss tried to change her angle. "Where did you... go?" After a moment, she admitted, "I thought you were dead."

"A home for unwed mothers in District 2."

Katniss raised her eyebrows, it was clear she had never heard of such a thing.

Madge explained the home, how it was a place designed by the Capitol to ensure that each District kept supplying Tributes for the games, workers for their industry. She talked about the cruel peacekeeper women who ran it, women who, oddly, weren't allowed to have children and didn't seem to care about them, though making sure their charges got through their pregnancies and raised their children to age two was their only job. Perhaps, Madge reflected, they felt resentful that of all the assignments they could have gotten, in the end they had to babysit teenagers who had violated the rules. It was a strange prison. Madge tried not to become emotional when she talked about her kind roommate, Caridee, and how she had helped her when she had become so depressed and given up hope. Finally, she told Katniss how it felt to finally leave with Gale and Maysilee and never look back.

"The nicest thing... I think that Gale ever did was..." Madge's voice broke as she recalled, "Was to help Gentry get to 2 to get Caridee out that wretched place. Even after the rebellion, the Home was allowed to keep us until our children were 2, since most of us didn't have homes to go back to. Caridee was stuck there with River, and Gentry in 10, with no money and no way to get to her. Gale, without having even met either of them, sent Gentry the money to get to 2, simply as a thank you to Caridee for taking care of me during my depression."

Katniss's face was unreadable, blank almost as she nodded mutely. Her voice was tiny when she said, "I never... knew Gale could be so nice."

"He can be, but you wouldn't have known that. You always liked him more than you needed him, or more than you let yourself need him, I guess," Madge hoped she was making sense and not just being cruel when she explained, "I don't know if I always liked Gale, but I knew that night during the first games, we needed each other. And he needed me, the night you and Peeta got engaged. And I needed him, when he came for me at the mother's home. Maysilee eventually became a handful, and we've needed each other since then, and he has always been there when I needed him since he came for me."

There was a long, deep silence.

Katniss took a breath, and her face told Madge she had more questions. Unfortunately, Madge was out of answers for this stranger named Katniss Everdeen. "Katniss, please," she stopped her with a hand. Katniss closed her mouth, and blushed, and Madge felt only the smallest bit of guilt.

"I believe," Madge cleared her throat, doing her best to change the tone. "We promised my daughter flowers."

"What?" Katniss stammered.

"We said we were doing flowers and things. I do need a few bouquets for the wedding, I will need one, Annie, Caridee, and of course Maysilee would just die if _you_didn't have one." Upon hearing the cutting tone of her own voice, she felt a lot guiltier, but Katniss simply rose to her feet and declared,

"Okay. Peeta and I planted some Primrose bushes around the house. I'm not sure that's good enough for you, I'm sure they have better in 2 but they're just my dead sister's namesake so-" Katniss's tone cut right back.

Madge rose to Katniss and slapped her across the face, hard.

She was hardly aware of what she was doing, and the stinging in her hand reached her brain before she registered the shocked expression on Katniss's face or that she herself had been the cause of it. Madge's mouth moved, trying to find the words 'I'm sorry,' but nothing came out.

Katniss's next move surprised Madge almost as much as her own had. Katniss grabbed Madge around the shoulders and pulled her in for a tight, secure hug. Madge found herself struggling and sobbing in Katniss's firm grip. Nothing in her life seemed to have gone the way she had planned. She couldn't get a handle on it, she just cried and cried, and Katniss held her tightly, shushing her lightly.

When Madge calmed down, Katniss put her at arm's length and spoke, clearly, and with a gentle expression. "Madge. Thank you for inviting me and Peeta to your wedding. I would really regret missing it." Madge was taken aback by this. It seemed genuine, but the words were so formal, so unlike Katniss that she just stared at her, uncomprehending.

Then, Katniss released her, and grabbed a pair of kitchen shears from a drawer, moving toward the door as she said, "Now, how about those bouquets?" Madge nodded and followed her. What else could she do? She just couldn't believe that Katniss hadn't said anything about Madge hitting her. Just who was this new Katniss? She was gentler than Madge had anticipated, more in control, certainly. Much more like the quiet huntress she had known in her youth.

As the afternoon progressed, she allowed herself to know this new Katniss, and even, inexplicably, to like her, as everyone always had. Katniss helped her pick blooms from the Primrose bushes, and they pruned the leaves and thorns from each stem carefully. It took longer than it should have, but by then end of a few hours, they had made 4 beautiful arrangements, Primroses supplemented by wildflowers, and wrapped in ribbons and scraps of cloth from some of the beautiful Capitol gowns that no longer fit Katniss. Madge had protested at the destruction of the garments, but Katniss had insisted.

Madge realized, in an instant, that they weren't going to get anywhere continuing to throw punches. They had always worked together, even when they had no idea what the other was dealing with. Madge held up her bridal bouquet and analyzed it, Primrose, bits of the Capitol, new flowers from the re-grown meadow, all coming together. Flowers coming together seemed much easier than people, but the idea of getting married in secret, in silence was not an option, in her mind. And they had the election to think about, as well. Like it or not, the four of them would have to learn to get along, if they were going to be of any help.

"I think we're going to get through this a lot better if no one hits anyone, from here on out," Madge said, her eyes still trained on her bouquet.

"Easier said than done," Katniss mumbled, setting the other bouquets on the table, "But I'm happy to give it a try." She sounded tired, as she added, "We just never were much for talking."

"Maybe that can change," Madge mused, more to herself than to Katniss.

"Maybe," Katniss agreed lightly.

The sound of footsteps coming up the walk startled them from their bouquet-induced reverie. Madge cast a glance out the window to see, with a flutter of hope in her chest, as well as a small stab of jealousy that Gale and Peeta appeared amiable, shoving each other's shoulders, talking animatedly, and laughing as they hauled what appeared to be the entire town's supply of wine in a cart behind them.

As Gale pushed the door open, arms full of wine and other goods from town, he announced awkwardly, "There was a new lamp post in the square, and I ran into it!" He said this with his face directed towards the ground, obvious anticipating that he would say it to Maysilee. When he realized she wasn't there, he flushed a bright red, as Peeta gave him a slap on the back, pushing past him to greet Katniss as he teased, "It's alright Gale, you showed that lamp post who's boss!"

Peeta reached Katniss, and noted the handprint on her face. "What did you run into?"

"My hand." Madge admitted sheepishly.

Gale met her eyes, and said, with the biggest smile he could muster, "Well, I've got wine!" Madge found her face lighting up, despite herself as she held out her own armload, "I've got flowers." Gale set his things down on the counter and moved to Madge, scooping her up in his arms, bouquet and all. He paid no mind to the presence of Peeta and Katniss as he said, "Now let's get the hell married, huh?"

Madge laughed and wondered briefly if they had already broken into the wine, but could only protest, "We have a _lot_more to do!"

"Well," Peeta supplied, setting another armload of wine on the ground, "good thing we have a few days. But tonight, we're just going to eat and get caught up," he cast a mockingly dark glance at Katniss and Gale, "_nicely_."

Everyone's eyes fell on Katniss, who seemed to be the only one in the room not swept up in the new feeling of elation. She met each of their eyes, jaw set, steeling herself. Looking somehow, exactly like Maysilee had when Madge had insisted it was time for her to nap.

"Katniss?" Peeta's tone was reproachful.

Katniss wrinkled her nose and tried a smile. Katniss always seemed to look a bit strange when she smiled, but sounded even stranger when she tried to make a joke, "Well, does anyone else need to get hit before we start the merriment?"

Everyone laughed, probably harder than they should have, but it was Gale who laughed the hardest, as he replied, "Nope, I think we've all thrown enough punches for one day."

"For one lifetime," Peeta interjected.

"So, let's open a bottle of wine, shall we?"


	22. Unity

CHAPTER 22: Unity

AUTHOR'S NOTE (It's gonna be a doo-sey)

So secretly, I am not even sure if that is how you spell doosey, but you will either understand what I mean or not. SO, sports fans, here's the dealio!

First off, there is some singing in this chapter. Katniss mentions a few times in the books that District 12 folk sing, dance, and play instruments. In addition, Appalacia, the area of the US that becomes District 12 has a rich history of oral tradition and culture, one of the majors being folk songs. This song, Miss SuperNova was the coolest person to track down, and we really thought it fit in nicely. Here is a youtube link if you'd like to hear what it sounds like:

.com/watch?v=F0jm58m7wQw

Okay, so, big changes are happening. Namely, we are nearing the end of this book. Yes, this book. Yes, end. See, we never really thought this fanfic would take off the way it did. On my part (V) it started as a one shot between Madge and Gale, but I wasn't so good at writing sexy stuff, so I called in SuperNova to help me out. We got all involved in the characters and decided it would take development to get Madge and Gale in bed, and then we started posting and our wonderful readers have inspired and driven us to be better and better with each update.

However, this story is now 22 chapters long, and literally, thousands of words. In order to gain closure on the story of the characters achieving Unity, and move on to the political thriller ideas we have brewing up for the election, we have decided to divide the story up into books, maybe 2, maybe 3 depending on if the election tour spirals out of control like the story of Unity did. We are wondering how y'all would feel about us starting a new story for the new book. Same characters and all that, just a different title/story such on . Please send us messages or mention in reviews how you feel about this, because it is very important to us not to lose any readers by doing this.

Also, you may have noticed that this is the title chapter. It is not the last chapter of Unity, we will be writing 2 – 3 more that cover Gale and Madge's wedding. The next book will start the first day of the election tour, and we are actually going to take a brief (2 weeks, probably) writing hiatus when Unity is done to take notes and draft out the plot of the next book!

Finally, SuperNova is also known on as MezzoPenDoll05, and has written 2 other wonderful Hunger Games stories.

First, a chilling one shot into the mind of Clove before the first Games, called Keystone: .net/s/8007868/1/Keystone

Then, if you like the way we write Peeta, you should check out "Peeta's Reaping" that tells a little bit of the backstory that we've worked out for Peeta's family, but things we can't find a place for in "Unity.":

.net/s/8105082/1/Peetas_Reaping

Also, while we're pimping things, I am an amateur filmmaker, and have done a few scenes from the Hunger Games book, and while they're not quite as shiny as the Lionsgate version, I am rather proud of them:

Goodbye District 12:

.com/watch?v=pFQJxqJWfLQ&feature=plcp

The Victors (The Berries):

.com/watch?v=3DZ8_jTsruM

I am more proud of the Victors, due to the amazing visuals, but that scene lends itself to good visuals, so judge for yourselves. Perhaps you will decide I am a more talented writer than filmmaker, and that's fine too!

* * *

><p>Thanks for all your reviews, and for reading! It is thanks to your readership that we've really gotten our asses in gear and made this story great!<p>

The evening turned out better than any of them could have hoped, or anticipated, given how it had started. The meal itself, chicken and vegetable pie with a cream sauce, rolls, and salad, was decadent, but hearty. The food was complimented by all the wine that any of them could drink - red, white, pink, and sparkling in all varieties. Peeta had worked his magic, giving the meal the feel of a family dinner, rather than a Capitol feast.

The feeling of family engulfed them, washed over them, and warmed their hearts - the wine didn't hurt either - until conversation flowed freely, hugs and handshakes were given generously, and most everyone at the table found themselves smiling, just for the joy of being there together.

Katniss took a census of the people gathered around her at the table. Most of them didn't have much family left, if any, so perhaps this feeling of connectedness meant they'd be making a new family from now on - at least that is what it felt like to her. These were the people she loved, even if she didn't always like them.

Finn and Maysilee did a lot to fill the initial lulls in conversation. Maysilee sat between Gale and Katniss, and rather appropriately refrained from sharing her food with Katniss or asking her to cut up her meat. Despite herself, Katniss found herself watching the girl, taking genuine pleasure in watching her face light up with her first sip of hot chocolate, and feeling worried when she seemed to lean too far to one side of her chair or the other, fearing she may fall off and get hurt. Gale proved to be a gentle, attentive, and patient father, and took great care to make sure that his daughter enjoyed herself.

Katniss watched him too. This was a new Gale, one whom she had never known, and she liked him. This didn't seem like the same Gale who'd left Madge to suffer alone while he chased after Katniss and did what he pleased.

On Katniss's other side sat Peeta. He was by Finn, who was perched on a pile of books so he could reach the table, as Katniss and Peeta didn't have a highchair or a booster seat, nor did Katniss actually know what those things were. Katniss couldn't help but observe Peeta as she did Gale, and notice similarities in his behavior.

Peeta spent his evening doting on Finn, cutting his meat, buttering his bread, and even blowing on the steaming bits of pie as he helped Finn eat them with the small plastic fork that Johanna and Annie had brought for him. They seemed to enjoy the break from parenting, and took the opportunity to eat, drink, and romance one another. Johanna commented, as Peeta finally got around to eating his own dinner, "Cold now, isn't it?"

Peeta shrugged, and shoveled a few bites in his mouth, obviously hungry, "I've had worse."

"Just wait," Johanna grinned through a bite of roll, "I haven't had a hot meal since Finn was old enough to eat solids." As an afterthought, she added, "Well, until now."

"Oh. I don't mind," was all Peeta said. The whole thing made Katniss uncomfortable, but Peeta was beaming.

The person who surprised Katniss the most during the meal was Haymitch. He started out quiet, and reserved, picking at food rather than eating it, and adding only a word or two to the conversation as necessary. As the meal progressed, he transformed, becoming animated, joking with the kids, and handing out compliments and kind words unprovoked. He was barely through a single glass of wine, but had devoured a few helpings of food. He usually didn't have much of an appetite.

It wasn't until Maysilee wanted to make sure that "Mister Haymitch" had gotten to try a sip of her hot chocolate, even though he had his own mug that Katniss understood. She watched Haymitch as he scooped up Maysilee's mug and pretended to down the entire thing. As the tiny girl stared, her wide eyes looking incredulous, he revealed to her that her mug was still mostly full, and guffawed as she giggled along with him. Katniss watched him laugh until he had to wipe at his teary eyes with his napkin, and realized how very lonely it must be to be Haymitch Abernathy.

She made a point to give his shoulder a squeeze the next time she moved past him to retrieve water from the kitchen, and was surprised that he met her hand with his own and gave it a squeeze in kind.

The talk around the table veered to a slightly more serious conversation, Annie and Johanna spoke animatedly about the Voting Education tour, for the election upcoming in spring. Gale and Madge voiced that they had agreed to go, and that Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch would be welcomed, were encouraged, to think about it, to join them. Madge couldn't help but compare the tone of this conversation to their first one; perhaps it was only the wine that made this talk lighter.

By the time Gentry and Caridee came to pick up Finn and Maysilee, Katniss felt better than she had around people in long time. Madge and Gale introduced Caridee and Gentry, and their son River, who were good friends of theirs they had met in Two. Everyone shook their hands and hugged them. Their thick, drawling accents and Gentry's large hat marked them as from District Ten as clearly as if they wore signs. For Peeta's part, he was incredibly warmed to meet people from other Districts. He packed them up leftovers and expressed how nice it was to meet them. Though the couple had been invited to this meal, they opted to let old friends catch up, and offered instead to come the next night for another dinner that would focus more on the wedding planning than reminiscing.

At some point, after Gentry and Caridee had successfully scooped the children up and brought them back to the Bed and Breakfast in the Square, Peeta stood and motioned for quiet from his dinner guests. With a smile on his face, a drink in his hand, and candles lighting his features, Peeta looked almost like the golden, glowing child he had been. Only the burn marks on his face served as a reminder that he was a man. Katniss blushed when she found herself staring at him and thinking about how close they had been only this afternoon.

"Thank you all for coming to dinner. We're all here in District Twelve to celebrate Gale and Madge's wedding, which promises to be a beautiful occasion, but I wanted to just take a moment to say a few words before the celebrating begins in earnest."

Though everyone had stopped speaking when Peeta first scooted his chair out, the hush became deeper. A few words from Peeta had always been something worth hearing.

"I want to propose a toast," his words resonated through the room, though he had not raised his voice. "The seven of us are here, alive and living in an almost-republic because many people, and many people we loved dearly, have died to give us that right."

He paused here, and Annie closed her eyes tightly, Johanna and Madge simultaneously reached out to take one of her hands. He locked eyes with Haymitch, "The right to breathe," he turned to Katniss as he continued, "The right to start a business. But most importantly, the right to _live_. Tonight is proof that none of our friends, our families died in vain. Because in this moment," he paused, and pointed his finger down to the table "We have something to celebrate, to really be grateful for, and that is life. Not only do we get to celebrate Gale and Madge's union later this week, we get to come together, people of all Districts to do so. And even greater than that, we have an incredible opportunity to shape the future, so that our children live better lives, that _their_children will live better lives, and everything that we, and all of our loved ones have sacrificed, will be worth it."

Peeta took a beat here, and took in the reactions from around the table. Six pairs of eyes followed his every move. Some of them, Annie's and Madge's, had brimmed up with tears. He had almost forgotten this feeling. That he, just the baker's son, could use his words like others could play instruments, was able to ensnare people as surely as Gale could. He took a moment to look into each pair of eyes; the various steely colors of Gale, Katniss and Haymitch, the green of the sea in Annie's and the brown of the earth in Johanna's, and finally the sky in Madge's eyes that he knew reflected his own. He felt a surge of affection for them, for what they had done, that they were here with him. For all the things he had lost, these people were here.

"I propose a toast," he continued, "to Finnick, to Primrose, to our families, to the Tributes and to the rebels for all of their sacrifices." He took a moment of silence, his eyes welling with tears, and then began again, "To Gale and Madge, for bringing us together tonight, and to the seven of us," he paused here, seriously, "to a new future for all of us." He let his last words ring out for a moment, before raising his glass.

"Skol!" Johanna said loudly, holding her glass up with her free hand.

"Cheers, then," Haymitch agreed, his face softer than Peeta had ever seen it. His hand did not shake as he raised his wine glass, held it aloft.

"To us," Katniss added, looking first directly to Peeta, then letting her gaze sweep over everyone.

Gale raised his glass "To the future." With his other hand, he found Madge's and held it tight.

"To our children," Madge said, wiping a tear from her cheek before lifting her glass.

Annie cleared her throat and disengaged herself so she could hold her cup up with both hands, "To Unity." As soon as she had said it, Peeta knew that had to be the final toast,

"To unity," he said solemnly.

"To unity," everyone chorused to the clinking of glasses. They drank the last of their dinner wine in reverent silence.

"Thank you," Peeta said quietly; as he set his glass on the table "Now," he clapped his hands together, providing a decided change in tone. He mimicked the trilling, affected voice assumed by Effie Trinket, "if you'd all like to join me in the sitting room, I believe Miss Mason has plans for us to play a game."

On the way out of the dining room, someone opened yet another bottle of wine and provided everyone with a full, fresh glass. The game had been Johanna's idea, which she explained rapidly, her voice ever-more tilted by her Northern district accent. The game was loudly supported by Haymitch and Gale. The others had never played a drinking game before, but this one seemed simple enough. Everyone started with a glass of wine, to be refilled generously. The game was played by going around the circle and saying something you had never done, but believed that others had. "I've Never," was the name of the game, and it seemed that to remain sober you would have had to stay inside your house your entire life.

Haymitch settled in one large armchair, and Gale landed in another with Madge perched on the arm. Peeta and Katniss and Johanna and Annie paired off and snuggled up on opposite loveseats. Before Johanna sat down, she distributed extra bottles between the couples and the wizened old mentor.

Peeta, who had at some point become the unofficial master of ceremonies, made sure everyone had a strong grasp on the rules and began, "I have never killed an animal," he announced. Gale and Katniss raised their glasses to one another proudly as Johanna, Annie and Haymitch also raised their cups.

Katniss gave Peeta an awkward nudge with her elbow, "Maybe we'll have to change that, huh? If that snake bite had taken me out, you'd be back to stale bakery bread for the rest of your life." Peeta looked at her reproachfully. Perhaps it was a little too early to bring up the snake bite in casual conversation - and he had, in fact, killed the snake which threatened her life. In hindsight, he took a quick sip from his glass, and hoped no one noticed.

To his left, Haymitch was frowning, but then said, "I've never worn a dress," the women in the room all drank, and to their credit, Gale and Peeta didn't. "Thought I would have gotten you there, Hawthorne," Haymitch growled.

"Not a chance," Gale shot back, "restricts movement."

"Not as much as you would think," Annie added giggling, already through her first glass, as she twirled her legs around Johanna to illustrate just how easy it was to move in a dress, showing off her panties as she did so.

Johanna shushed him, planting a hand on Annie's legs to keep them closed "I," she began proudly, "have never once been in love with Katniss Everdeen."

Gale raised and drank from his cup, but followed it up by pulling Madge down from her perch on the arm of the chair into his lap and giving her a mildly inappropriate kiss. Peeta only smiled and asked Katniss affectionately, the various tense moments of the day forgotten, "Do you suppose I should drink twice, since I fell in love with you twice?"

"Gross, Mellark, shove it!" Johanna called out, and tossed a throw pillow at him with waning accuracy, she turned to Annie whose turn it was, "This should be easy for you, Seashell; you're so innocent." She said this haughtily as she poured herself and Annie new glasses of a pink sparkling wine.

Annie's large eyes narrowed as she tilted her head in thought, "it is much easier to think of things that one has done, rather than the things one hasn't done," she mused quietly. "I've never lived in District Twelve."

"Too easy, Annie!" Gale argued, but drank anyway with Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch.

Gale thought hard for a moment, and came upon something. He judged that it would be okay, "I never kissed Finnick Odair,"

A thousand memories of kisses shared with Finnick washed over Annie. She thought of her past with Finnick like a trail of footprints left in the sand. Each wave that washed over them blurred the edges, smoothed the details. She knew that one day; all she would have was the memory of footprints in the sand, a memory of her memories. No, she realized, that wouldn't be all she had. Annie's eyes found Johanna, and they smiled sadly at one another and shared one gentle kiss before drinking. Katniss prodded Peeta, "Drink,"

Peeta looked at her with complete confusion etched on his face, "What? I never kissed Finnick."

"But he resuscitated you," Katniss insisted. Sheepishly, she added, "I thought he was kissing you."

"I was _dead_," Peeta said in amusement.

"Wouldn't matter," Johanna said with a sultry leer.

"Just drink," Katniss insisted, maybe a little drunkenly. "Madge, it's your turn."

"Well," she said with a toss of her golden hair, adjusting herself in Gale's lap, where she realized she was quite comfortable, "I've never been in the Hunger Games."

Everyone but Gale and Madge tilted their cups to the ceiling, while a brief wave of sobriety washed over them, but Katniss cleared her throat, she had been thinking of hers for a while, and blurted, "I've never kissed a girl!"

Johanna and Annie responded only by kissing one another once again, enthusiastically, and Madge timidly lifted her glass to her lips, hoping to go unnoticed. Everyone else was watching Annie and Johanna, but Gale had seen. "You apparently have a story for me, later," he growled in her ear. She shushed him with a blush creeping over her cheeks.

Peeta, with his arm securely around Katniss, was only too happy to think of the many things in his life he had never done. The lifetime of experiences that winning the Hunger Games had allotted him, since losing would have ensured that the list of things he'd never done would never change. The first thing that struck him was, "I've never had children." Katniss darted a furtive look up at him. This was certainly on his mind today.

"I'm drinking," Johanna asserted, as Gale and Madge toasted their daughter. "I have changed a damn lot of diapers."

"You're just as much Finn's parent as I am, Jo," Annie murmured, tucking her feet up to snuggle closer. "Haymitch, it's your turn," she added with a nod. Johanna, who had looked initially defensive of her position in Finn's life, gave a little smile at Annie's assertion.

"Well, this would work better later on in the week," Haymitch began, his gravelly voice with a tinge of sadness, "but I've never been married."

Annie and Johanna lifted their cups, but everyone's heads were turned to Katniss, who had lifted her glass.

"Who'd you trick to marry you, then, Brainless?" Johanna laughed.

Katniss looked at Peeta almost accusingly, who sheepishly raised his cup, "I didn't know if you wanted to tell them or not!"

"Wait, wait, wait," Johanna interrupted, "You two got married and didn't invite anyone?"

"We didn't know you, Johanna," Peeta said diplomatically, "we had the world's shortest engagement, we got married the night I proposed, in a train compartment."

Madge, with raised eyebrows, had to inquire, "So you didn't go to the justice building?"

"No, but we toasted," Katniss said stubbornly, "we're married." Peeta's couldn't help a bright smile from creeping on his face as Katniss affirmed their commitment to one another in front of their friends. It made it feel yet more real. She grabbed his hand for good measure. This seemed to be enough for Johanna and Annie, who seemed to relax into one another.

"That settles that," Haymitch declared, though it seemed that Gale and Madge had more questions. He took a draw of his wine that happened to last until his glass was empty, seemingly forgetting they were playing a drinking game.

"My turn!" Johanna crowed, it was clear that she was reveling in this, a night off from parenting, with Annie wrapped securely by her side, "I have never had sex outside," she said with a meaningful glance at Gale and Madge, who both seemed to concentrate fully on their wine which they gulped a bit too freely and came up choking.

Katniss barely had time to wonder how on earth Johanna knew this about Gale and Madge, but Annie, seeing their discomfort, turned directly to Johanna and said sweetly, "I have never been naked in public."

Everyone's eyes raked the room, curious to see if anyone but Johanna had exhibitionistic tendencies, but only the District Seven native raised her cup, with a defense of, "you all should try it, it's very freeing. Your turn, Gale Force,"

Gale frowned, concentrating on pouring new glasses of wine for himself and his fiancé. He wanted to think of something good, that would get most of them without bringing up too much pain, "I've never lived in a Victor's Village,"

The Victors raised their glasses, "Nice place once you get all the bugs out," Johanna said with an ironic tilt of her head.

Peeta felt a stab of indignancy, and felt Katniss tense under his arm. This was where he baked! There weren't any bugs! Maybe Haymitch had bugs in his house, but, his thoughts were interrupted as Katniss yelped with a desperate glance into the rafters, "Are you kidding? Where are they?"

Johanna rolled her eyes and huffed as she pulled herself away from Annie, stood, and walked directly up to a molded fixture in the wood, where she popped out a covering and revealed a tiny, dark disc. The word _bug _clicked for Peeta. Not scavengers for bakery crumbs, but stray words.

"Are they live? Do they still work?" Katniss panicked aloud.

"'Course not, brainless," Johanna scoffed as she crushed the thing under her boot unceremoniously, "No one left to listen, right? We made sure of that on the Clean-Ups, eh Soldier Hawthorne?" She gave him an ironic salute.

"Yes, definitely," Gale affirmed, returning her salute.

"Actually, it was kind of fun to try to find them all, once we found out they were there," Annie said, the wine clearly making her already ethereal voice only more vacant, with vague motions for Johanna to return to their couch.

Madge, who had been shaking her head in wonder, mused, "Well, I've never been interesting enough to get spied on."

Haymitch laughed raucously, "Pick another one, Goldilocks, your dad's house was full of 'em."

Annie piped up, suddenly looking quite sober, "Why would they spy on your father, Madge?"

Madge's family, like Peeta's family and almost all other District Twelve families, had not made it out of the firestorm, and Madge's face threatened to crumple at the reminder, "My father was the Mayor."

"Shit, Gale Force, I knew your girl was Merchant but I didn't think she was the District Princess!" Though she said it with no malice, it was so out of place that everyone bristled. '

Agitation enveloped Katniss, but Peeta spoke first his words calming every tense muscle in the room, "It was never like that, here, Johanna."

Johanna accepted this at face value, and cast what could pass as an apologetic glance at Madge. But Madge still felt a pang of anger, and knew immediately what she had never done, "Well, I've never killed anyone."

Her words didn't have the effect on Johanna she had wished they would, but nearly everyone in the room drank under a dark cloud.

Peeta felt concerned that this wasn't going exactly the way he planned and turned to Katniss, hopeful that she could say something that would break the tension. She would know, wouldn't she, to keep it light on her turn? But Katniss, whose survival instincts were as keen as her social skills were dull, seemed to only have been inspired by Madge's morbid contribution.

"I have never stabbed anyone," she announced, and Peeta was sure their night was over, that people, himself included, would dissolve into a trauma-induced misery, but it seemed to have had the opposite effect: no one believed her!

Haymitch refused to drink, protesting, "Really, sweetheart?"

"What'd I say, Haymitch? I never used a knife on anyone," Katniss insisted, as Gale, Johanna, and then Peeta tilted their cups. Katniss twisted her neck up to look at her husband, "But Peeta, when did you stab someone?"

Peeta raised his eyebrow at her, "How about on live TV, twice? I had to finish that poor girl from District 8 in our first Games, and then Brutus came after me in the Quell the night that you blew out the force field." he suppressed a shudder, "Not my best moments, when you compare to my other appearances. But," he gathered, suddenly, knowing the best way to fully diffuse the tension, "I've never won a Quarter Quell, Haymitch!"

Haymitch dutifully raised his nearly empty cup, but Johanna was protesting again, "Who says we didn't win the Quell?"

Gale was immediately brought back into the empty bar car, where Johanna had insisted, _no one wins the games_. But this didn't seem to be the moment to pick out the subtleties of Johanna's perceptions on winning and losing. But Annie was in the same place, "No one wins, Jo, you know that."

"I know, I know," she muttered, "I'm still gonna drink, 'cause we're all alive aren't we?"

Haymitch seemed to content to continue to pass the ball, as he poured himself another very full glass of wine, "Well, I've never chopped down a tree, how's that Mason?"

Johanna drained her glass and filled it again and drained the second glass, then began to pour a third, when Katniss finally felt the need to interrupt, shaking her head, "What are you _doing?_"

"I figure, I chopped down way more trees than anyone else has done anything else," she slurred.

"I bet I caught more fish than you chopped down trees," Annie said gently, perhaps knowing that competition would be the only thing to keep her partner from downing the entire bottle. She began frantically pouring and gulping glasses of wine to keep up.

"I bet I baked more cheese buns," Peeta asserted, catching quickly to Annie's plan. He abandoned the idea of pouring and throwing back glasses of wine, since he himself was not as steady as the others. Instead, he tipped back the bottle and began to take great swallows of the tart red wine.

"I bet I killed more squirrels." Katniss challenged, not following the string, but wanting to compete all the same. She grabbed the bottle away from Peeta, sloshing some down her dress as she brought it to her lips.

"Nu-uh! I killed way more squirrels than you!" Gale shouted, rather more loudly than necessary, the redness on his cheekbones belying his sobriety. He actually pounced across the room to snatch the bottle from her as if the bottle itself were the prize, though he and Madge had their own bottle, which he knocked to the ground when he leapt up. It sloshed out of the bottle onto the ground. Madge snatched it up before too much damage was done.

"Well," Haymitch announced loudly, "I killed more brain cells than any of you have done anything," no one could argue that, "so whose turn is it?"

"Itsh mine!" Johanna was beginning to cross a line from tipsy into intoxicated, but straightened herself up and proclaimed with a nasty gleam in her eye, "I have never masturbated!"

A stunned silence covered the room and six pairs of eyes blinked back at her, "Oh, Jo," Annie whispered, holding her closer.

"What," Johanna spat defensively, seeing the pitying, confused looks from around the room, "it's not that weird!"

"It kinda is," Gale pointed out, arching his eyebrow at her.

"You're a _man," _Johanna said, rolling her eyes, and then turning them to Madge and Katniss, who, in response, only quietly lifted their glasses to their lips. Katniss thought only fleetingly of her moments alone in the woods, before turning to nuzzle her head against Peeta's shoulder. Madge, on the other hand, was thinking much more deeply, as she lowered her glass slowly.

She thought of the nights, alone, when she would think of Gale. So many months after their first encounter, the months between, the long, lonely stretch of time between Maysilee's birth and Gale's return to them. Wondering, almost knowing, even as she thought of his broad shoulders and challenging smile, that when he did this, he almost definitely did not think of her. She recalled the many nights, even recently that Gale would murmur Katniss's name in his sleep. It was Gale who filled her consciousness when she was alone with herself. But Gale? Did he still imagine himself with her? Think about Katniss with her dark hair and strong arms when he was at his most vulnerable? Or did he think about her? That she couldn't answer this question left her gripping her wine glass and staring far off into the distance.

She sat there for so long, with anger and sadness written so clearly on her face that a hush fell over everyone else. As she looked up, she saw her friends, her wedding guests staring at her so expectantly that she was suddenly filled with rage. She had never asked for this. For all of these people to reappear, she had just needed to know.

"I didn't want to get married here!" she blurted so furiously that everyone leaned back, their eyes wide, "What could I hope to accomplish here besides stirring up old ghosts?" Madge shouted. She was on her feet, but the orientation of the room made escaping without having to awkwardly step over someone impossible, so she paced in a tiny circle as she continued, "I would have been happy with a wedding in Two, but I-" she faltered, and stopped moving, turning to face Katniss.

Madge quivered with anger, all eyes on her, as she whispered, "I had to know."

"Madge-" Gale stood, and tried to catch Madge's arm but she tore it away. "You don't touch me!" She pointed a finger at him, as if it could stop him. "I had to know..." She nodded, gaining intensity as she spat, "I had to know you'd choose me this time."

"Of course I'd choose you." Gale frowned, casting not a glance in Katniss's direction. "I already chose you."

"You didn't choose me, you just knocked me up." Madge shouted, sobs beginning to choke her voice.

"Madge-" Gale tried, but what could he say? He took her in, her hair disheveled, wine sloshed down her dress, tears falling down her cheeks, and pain in her beautiful eyes. Had he just chosen her because of Maysilee? He was so drunk, and his mind so cloudy, it wasn't fair for her to confront him with this now. He was bad at talking when it was just her, and he was sober, so what was this ambush?

He tried to collect his thoughts, one phrase pushing through. It had been enough for her then, maybe it would be enough for her now. With eyes as clear as he could muster under the circumstances, he opened his body to her, palms out, like he would approach a wounded animal and spoke in a clear, strong voice, "I wanted to see you."

Though no one else seemed to understand, it seemed to placate Madge at least somewhat, the wild look in her eyes quieted, as she uttered, helplessly, "Why?"

This time, 'I came to see you' would probably not be sufficient. Why did he... because he just did. That was all, but how could he say that and not sound like an idiot? He licked his lips and attempted to clear his head and his throat. Both seemed reluctant. He tried again, more successfully, and opened his mouth to speak, to say anything at all, but Katniss spoke for him.

"Madge, Peeta and I are married. There is nothing to choose."

Madge looked surprised, as though she hadn't comprehended the full meaning of this when they had said it earlier, and flicked her eyes back and forth between Katniss and Peeta. Peeta laced his fingers through Katniss's, supporting her decision to speak, expressing to Madge that everyone else could see what she couldn't, as he added, "Madge, Gale did choose you."

Madge looked to Gale for assent, and he realized as he stared at her broken, beautiful face that those were the words he had been searching for. He had chosen her. Not because he wanted to, initially, but because of something else - because he needed to. Because he needed her, the way that Katniss and Peeta needed each other, for survival, for support. "Madge," he tried again, "I need you to choose me too, the way I am. I can't erase that I abandoned you for Katniss. I won't do it again. I need you to choose me anyway."

Madge stared at him, mirroring his own disbelieving expression from moments ago, "Of course I choose you." For good measure, she added, rather unnecessarily, "You idiot." She was crying, so her icy tone was unconvincing.

They stared at each other, wordless, breathless, as everything else in the world fell away for just a minute. Gale reached out a hand to her, and this time, she took it. As they settled back into their chair, Annie, who had decided, apparently, that the show must go on bravely broke the silence, "I've never sung a song."

"Really?" Katniss asked her, sounding as if this was one of the saddest things she'd ever heard.

"Yeah," Annie smiled one of her little 'to-herself' smiles she got when she was thinking about Finnick. Johanna placed a hand on Annie's as she continued, "When I was young, I was too shy, and then... when we were older, Finnick used to sing to me endlessly. He'd serenade me with love songs from the Capitol, little children's rhymes, sailors' ballads from our District, anything he could learn, he'd sing back to me. No offense Katniss, but he was my mockingjay long before you donned your gold pin."

"I'm not offended," Katniss dismissed. "He never asked you to sing with him?"

"Oh, only all the time," Annie blushed, "But see, Finnick's voice was... like him. Perfect. I was so scared of sounding bad next to him; I just couldn't make sound come out, even if I wanted to. I would open my mouth and just freeze up, and this squeaking sound would come out... Like when you're raising the sails and pulleys haven't been oiled."

"Yes, darling," Johanna kissed her cheek, "Because all of us land folk knew exactly what the pulley system on a sailboat sounds like when it hasn't been oiled properly." Everyone laughed, the lightness of the evening returning, but Annie seemed put out. She was blushing the color of a tomato, since the wine had already brought color to her face, and now she was embarrassed. Despite this, she took a deep breath, shimmied her shoulders back so that her posture was proud, and declared, as if no one had heard her the first time:

"I never learned any kind of instrument, nor have I ever sung a song!" she proclaimed. The addition seemed to make her pretty pleased with herself, as her blush faded back to a drunken - rather than humiliated - hue. Annie had cast a wide net with this one, and everyone else in the room drank.

Katniss, on the other hand looked in surprise to Peeta and Haymitch, the two people in her life who she was arguably closest to. "Wait, what do you two do?"

Peeta's face, already flushed from the alcohol reddened further, "well," he stammered, "I don't know if it counts, but I can," then he mumbled something under his breath that even Katniss, who couldn't possibly be closer to him on the couch, couldn't hear.

"What was that?" Gale called out, putting his hand to his ear jokingly, being careful to keep hold of Madge on his lap.

"Spoons!" Peeta said in a loud voice, "My brothers learned real instruments but they never anticipated... me, and so they just gave me spoons. I can play the spoons."

"Y'kin do _what?"_Johanna slurred,

"Yes, Peeta, what is that?" Annie seconded.

"What can you play, Haymitch?" Peeta asked, a bit too cheerfully.

"Well, haven't played in years, but I can pick a banjer," he admitted, miming the stringed instrument.

Johanna and Annie still looked at one another in confusion, "this is the most backward district in the world," Johanna said to her in a very fake, loud whisper.

As though in protest to Johanna's insult, Haymitch, unexpectedly, began to sing. His voice rusty, and low, but warm. Katniss recognized the song from the days when she and her father wandered the woods belting out tunes so numerous and various, it was a wonder she could remember any of them clearly at all. It came back to her slowly as Haymitch crooned out the first verse.

_Oh the Cuckoo, she's a pretty bird_  
><em>and she warbles as she flies<em>  
><em>but she never hallers 'cuckoo'<em>  
><em>'till the fourth day of July.<em>

Gale was the first to join in, first just a word here or there, but he, like Katniss managed to recall the song from the depths of his memory, and by the end of the first verse, was singing along with Haymitch, his voice not entirely on key, but sweet and smooth.

_It is often that I wonder_  
><em>Why do women love men<em>  
><em>then I look back, and I wonder, <em>  
><em>What makes men love them? <em>

The sound of these two men, Seam men, from Katniss's home District singing this old District song made her heart swell with almost uncontrollable joy. She snatched up Peeta's hands and held them to her own chest as she joined in, pitching her voice differently from the main melody to give the song a fuller feel - harmonizing, her father had called it. Madge joined too, her high, thin voice providing another level of harmony.

_Gonna build me a log cabin_  
><em>On the mountain so high<em>  
><em>So I can see the Cuckoo<em>  
><em>as she goes soaring by<em>

Tentatively, Peeta joined in with them, his voice, like Gale's warm, and sweet, and yes, maybe a pinch off key, but Katniss could care less. She looked at him, face beaming, as he stole his hands back to pat out a beat on his legs. She could fill in, in her mind, what the same beats would sound like with spoons, rather than hands. It made her love him even more.

_Oh the Cuckoo, she's a pretty bird_  
><em>and she warbles as she flies<em>  
><em>She'll ask you no questions<em>  
><em>And she'll tell you no lies.<em>

As they rounded out the last verse, Peeta waved his hands encouragingly and ran out into the kitchen, as Haymitch began the song again. Peeta rushed back in with his spoons and joined in, singing and clacking out a furious beat.

Johanna cocked an eyebrow at Annie, as if to say, w_ell, now's your chance_, and opened her mouth, singing mostly 'la's and humming along, rather than trying to learn the words in her intoxicated state. Johanna's voice was throaty, and mellow and rich. Annie watched Johanna for a minute, and then closed her eyes tightly, a giant smile spreading across her face. She opened her mouth, and at first, Katniss heard the sound, like a squeaky door, but gradually, the sounds turned into a voice - a tiny, high-pitched voice that was definitely sharp, but clear and full of feeling.

_Oh the Cuckoo, she's a pretty bird_  
><em>and she warbles as she flies<em>  
><em>but she never hallers 'cuckoo'<em>  
><em>'till the fourth day of July.<em>

_It is often that I wonder_  
><em>Why do women love men<em>  
><em>then I look back, and I wonder, <em>  
><em>What makes men love them? <em>

_Gonna build me a log cabin_  
><em>On the mountain so high<em>  
><em>So I can see the Cuckoo<em>  
><em>as she goes soaring by<em>

As the end of the song neared, Katniss marveled at the incredible feeling of singing with this group. The sounds they made together were not necessarily on-key or perfectly harmonious, but a feeling washed over Katniss. She recognized it, but she had never felt it this strongly. The opposite of this feeling was much easier to identify; the feeling of being completely alone and without hope. Haymitch's voice, with Peeta's, Gale's, Johanna's, Annie's, Madge's and even her own all joined together, forming their own force, something more powerful than Katniss had ever experienced. Perfect togetherness. The word from Annie's toast swam into her mind, _unity._

_Oh the Cuckoo, she's a pretty bird_  
><em>and she warbles as she flies<em>  
><em>She'll ask you no questions<em>  
><em>And she'll tell you no lies.<em>

They finished the song, the 7 of them, all grinning with such unadulterated joy that their cheeks were sore. Annie declared, after downing the last of her glass of wine, "I think I am the winner!"

Johanna scoffed, "No such thing in this game, Seashell!"

"Nope," Annie was sure of it. "I definitely win."

Peeta caught on, "I think so. She took the opportunity to rectify one of the things she'd never done. I think that makes her a winner."

Annie looked mischievously at Johanna, "You can be a winner too, if you'll let me teach you a thing or two about," her eyes darted down between Johanna's legs, and then back up to her face as she let the word fall from her mouth slowly, seductively, like a drop of honey, "Yourself."

It was Johanna's turn to blush, everyone's in fact. Annie being so sexually open was new, and surprising, even in their drunken state. After a moment of stillness, Annie and Johanna entangled themselves in each other, limbs, lips, and eyes locked in some sort of drunken dance.

Gale turned to Madge, and offered his wine glass her way, as if to toast. "I've never," he tried, "been so happy." The way he said it, his eyes locked with hers, his face caught in that crooked smile he used when he was trying too hard to look like a normal man, rather than one broken by years of hardship, and war, she knew that he was trying to express that his happiness was linked to her.

Madge looked at his face for a lingering moment, her eyes searching for something. What it was, Gale would never know, because she leaned into him, and kissed him deeply. When she broke the kiss she nodded towards Johanna and Annie, "I think it's time for bed."

She took him by the hand and led him to the guest bedroom where Maysilee had napped earlier in the day, leaving Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch to stare awkwardly at the entangled bodies of Johanna and Annie, who had passed out about halfway through the process of removing their clothes. Annie was curled up in a slip, but still wearing her high-heeled shoes. Johanna was completely clothed from the waist down, but bared her breasts, her shirt on her arms above her head.

Katniss and Peeta gave each other knowing looks, smiling at a faint memory of the Training Center in the Capitol - before the Quarter Quell, the night of the tribute parade, Johanna had stripped completely naked and shared an elevator with Peeta and Katniss, much to Katniss's discomfort. Now seeing Johanna's naked body was like seeing a tree in the woods.

Peeta turned his attention to Haymitch. "Would you like to stay?"

Haymitch shook his head, rising to a standing position as he grumbled, "I've walked home much drunker and much farther than this."

It seemed that Haymitch's peculiar behavior had not gone unnoticed by Peeta, because he took Haymitch's hands in both of his, and looked him straight in the eye, fighting to keep a straight face through the wine fumes as he spoke, "You know you're always welcome." The way he said it made clear to Haymitch that he meant it unconditionally.

Haymitch waved him off, and stumbled out the door, but cast a fleeting glance at them as he tripped out the door.

For a moment, they stood in the kitchen, fingers intertwined, saying nothing, just staring after their once-mentor as he stumbled out into the night. Katniss suddenly found herself so tired, her eyes stinging with the effort of just staying open. She blinked sleepily a few times and turned her face towards Peeta. The wine was definitely working it way into her very nerve endings; it felt as if her entire body was buzzing.

When she looked at Peeta, he looked strange, as if she was looking at him through a tunnel. She realized, also, that he didn't look like the Peeta she knew now, but the pure, whole, 16-year old boy she'd entered the games with. She saw him with a shocking clarity, though she knew it couldn't be real.

"Peeta?" she asked him, to be certain that her worst fears hadn't been realized. He didn't vanish, though. Instead, he turned his face to look at her, and looked familiar again, burned, gaunt, and broken - her Peeta, her husband, her family.

"I love you," she said to him, plainly.

"I love you too, Katniss," he responded in kind and gave her hand a squeeze. "Thanks for choosing me," he added meekly.

"Oh no," Katniss sighed, shaking her head, "You chose me first."

Katniss closed her eyes, letting a flood of memories wash over her. The first time she and Peeta touched hands, when they shook at the Reaping, the first time they kissed when the only heat she could feel was his fever, and then, just that afternoon, when their breaths, the bodies had become one.

She opened her eyes in confusion, as she felt Peeta's hand shaking in hers. She found his face, and saw, with dismay, his pupils dilating, then shrinking back to normal, as he blinked rapidly, and gripped the table white-knuckled with his other hand. He too was being overcome by memories - but with a very different result.

"Peeta?" she asked, her voice small, and scared.

This seemed to ease his struggling, as he let go of the table and let out the breath he had been holding. His muscles tensed and released a few times, until the shaking subsided, and hot tears flowed to his eyes - which had returned to normal. He leaned into her, and she wrapped her arms around him as he sobbed silently into her shoulder.

"Katniss," his voice was hoarse, and sounded distant. She tightened her grip on him and found her own voice.

It quivered as she answered him, "What?"

"Y- you're always asking me to stay with you, like I have anywhere else in the world that I want to be..." he tried to sound like he was joking, but instead his voice was fragile as he begged her, "Please... you're the one... who could... I mean." He fought for a moment for some stability in his voice, but it only came out quieter, "Katniss, will you stay with me?"

It took her only a moment to process what he was really asking her. Not about tonight, not about tomorrow, but about the rest of their lives. About being more than the friends they had agreed to be, the allies they had vowed to be. This was something more. The word passed her lips, without any thought, or doubt, and she knew it was true when she responded,

"Yes, always."

The look on Peeta's face told her that he understood, though even this couldn't fully combat the fears fighting behind his eyes. She put Peeta at arm's length and kissed his salty cheeks, wiping at his tears before leading him up to their bedroom. He sat, defeated, on the bed as Katniss took off his shoes and socks, placing them in a neat pile before she helped him out of his clothes.

She tried to replicate the way he folded them each night, and managed a small neat pile before whipping her own dress over her head to pool on the floor in wrinkled heap. She lay down on the bed, and pulled his head to rest between her breasts. Tonight, she would hold him, and fight off his nightmares, even if it meant she didn't get a wink of sleep herself.

She held him until his breath steadied, his crying stopped, and he began to snore ever-so-softly. Only then did she give in the wine and exhaustion, dragging her down into a deep, dreamless slumber.


	23. Vows

Chapter 23: Vows

They all awoke the next day feeling refreshed. Despite having more literal and figurative headaches to work through, it seemed that their personal drama was, for the most part, behind them. Now, the task at hand was an ambitious one, but a pleasurable one nonetheless. Planning Madge and Gale's wedding proved a great team building exercise for them, as it took bringing everyone's heads together to even remember what a District 12 wedding ceremony entailed.

Gale, Madge, and Katniss, alongside Madge, Haymitch, Greasy Sae, and a few other older residents from District 12 sat down with a pot of tea and a piece of paper, and wrote down everything they could remember about wedding ceremonies that they had attended in their home District.

When Hazelle arrived with Gale's siblings from 2, she was very helpful at filling in some of the gaps in their memory, since she herself had had a traditional wedding ceremony in 12. Madge was initially reluctant to invite her to help. She held some resentment regarding the way that Hazelle, Vick, Rory, and Posey already treated Katniss like family, when she always felt like an outsider when they saw each other in 2. They embraced Katniss more warmly than they did Madge, but surprised her by offering freely to aid in the ceremony in any way that they could.

"Really, Hazelle?" Madge had tried to sound sincere, rather than surprised. "But you've just come all the way from 2, and the kids..."

"Oh, Madge," Hazelle waved her off, "They're barely kids now, anyway. And the trip was worth every minute."

"Well, thank you," Madge had given her a polite nod. They stood, awkwardly, in the kitchen of Peeta's home in the Victors' Village, where she and Gale had been staying to simplify the Wedding planning process.

Madge tried to think of something else to say, when Hazelle took her into a Katniss-worthy embrace, and whispered to her, "You saved my Gale," her voice cracked, and Madge became aware that she was crying, "You saved my boy from becoming a man I didn't recognize. For that, I will always be grateful to you, Madge, and be proud to call you my daughter in-law." Madge has just squeezed her tightly, taken aback by her kind words.

Maysilee, with almost clairvoyant timing, had chosen this moment to escape the bath that Gale had been giving her. She popped into the kitchen, soaking wet and bare-naked, squealing with delight when she saw Hazelle, "Gramma! I heard your voice from upstairs where Daddy was giving me a bath!"

"You are very smart, Maysilee, just like your mother," Hazelle had responded, picking up the little girl, despite her dampness, "And you are very difficult, just like your father." With that she had carried Maysilee back to the tub, and been one of the strongest advocates of the wedding ceremony, and of Madge, every moment after.

Along with Gale's family, several other out-of-towners rolled in on the morning train - Beetee, whom Gale had been friends with in 13, and, much to Madge's surprise, Cressida and Pollux, who had helped with the rebel propos arrived, cameras ready to film the ceremony. Apparently, it was to be a part of the stock footage being used in the Voting Tour propos. It was already being advertised in the Districts, since it was to begin in just a month or so.

Since Madge and Gale had gone on television in support of the Election, citing their family as the reason they were doing so, the Propo Team had decided that showing the nation - just bits, they assured - of their wedding would help move the citizens of Panem to act.

One new face caught everyone a little off guard, that of 'Soleila,' as she called herself. She had pale, almost translucent skin, large gold eyes, and silver hair. She was young, incredibly tall and slender. Willowy. Was she their age, the same age as Madge, Gale, and the rest of them? She looked like she could be, but she also looked much older. She was from District 7, like Johanna Mason, and had watched the Hunger Games from a young age, taking in, not the violence, and the horror, but the fashion aspects of the Games.

She had wanted to be a stylist for as long as she could remember, she informed them in a chirpy voice, with the elongated vowels that weirdly, but perhaps appropriately, reminded everyone of Johanna. Since the Capitol and the Rebels collectively had killed all the stylists, Soleila had finally gotten her chance. She was the official stylist of the Voting Tour. Her first assignment was to style Madge and Gale's entire wedding, and to make sure that the footage Cressida and Pollux took was up to the aesthetic standard that the public was used to.

For this reason, everyone cold-shouldered Soleila a bit. It did feel like they were being put on display, like the tributes before the Games, but surprisingly, Katniss and Peeta came to her defense. They, of all people, would not underestimate the value of a good stylist. Johanna on the other hand was weirded out by the idea that she and this bizarre, ethereal girl were from the same District. So much so that she had taken to quizzing her ruthlessly on their District words, customs, and geography. Soleila was strangely quite patient, and answered her queries so completely that Johanna could no longer doubt her authenticity.

After Peeta and Katniss made clear to everyone that Soleila would do more good than harm, they attempted not to resent her for trying to do what she was assigned. She was very helpful, Madge reasoned to herself, and to Gale, when he inevitably got upset. He had never had much of a stomach for Capitol folk, or wanna-be Capitol folk, as it were.

"IT'S OUR WEDDING!" he had shouted, not at her, but to her in frustration. "I just don't see the point of pouring over every little detail until we completely hate each other and ourselves, and the idea of getting married."

"Gale," Madge had scolded. He hurt her feelings, even if he hadn't intended to. "I could never hate you, or the idea of marrying you."

"You know what I mean," he had insisted.

"No," she was being difficult on purpose. She did know what he meant. "I'm afraid I don't know." She had coldly wrapped her sweater around her shoulders, and sat down on the bed, brushing through her hair with her fingers. "Soleila has been very helpful to me. I have to worry about many more things than just, seeing that the meadow is landscaped properly."

"Is that all you think I've been doing?" He fumed, "Playing around in the meadow?"

Maysilee, with her increasingly-perfect timing, had wandered in and pointed a disapproving finger at Gale, "Daddy, it sounds like you are using the voice that you use when you are being a jerk." This always broke Gale's resolve.

He had apologized immediately, giving Madge a firm, affectionate kiss of the forehead as he relented, "If she's helpful to you, Madge, that's all that matters. I'll try to be more patient."

Peeta and Katniss's home became the designated place to drop off kids and messes. During the day, when their respective parents were working on setting up for the wedding, River, Maysilee, and Finn were Katniss and Peeta's responsibility. Peeta, of course, couldn't be happier. Katniss spent a lot of time in the woods. It was Katniss and Peeta that Gale ran to when it was announced that the cake they had ordered to be transported in from 2 hadn't made the journey. Apparently, it had actually been looted from the train during a fuel stop.

Shortages were still common to the Districts, since the new government was still shaky at best. Working the kinks out would take time, and where there were shortages, there was thievery. Madge had panicked, when she heard the news, but Gale had gotten right up, made the journey to the Victors' Village in record time, and asked Peeta and Katniss to fix it. Peeta, who had already been doing some baking and food prep for them agreed in an instant.

It was the same panic that brought Madge to Katniss when Soleila insisted that those giving toasts in the ceremony had to wear matching outfits. The girls, who were called 'Bride's Maids' in the wealthier Districts, according to Soleila, would have to wear dresses in the same color, and the boys, called 'Groom's Men' would have to wear blazers at least, even Johanna - who had jokingly asserted that she wouldn't wear anything underneath. It was far too late to make anything, or order it, and, though Gale's job brought in plenty of money, neither of them could justify the expense. Katniss and Madge had gone through the boxes of clothing that she and Peeta had saved from their Victor days, and they were able to find suitable jackets for all of the men, and dresses for Katniss, Annie, Caridee, and even Posy in varying shades of pink.

Technically, the dress for Posy, who was barely 9, had been a short dress on Katniss, and was almost full length on the young girl, but Soleila had taken it in to fit, and the crisis was averted.

Maysilee's crush on Katniss had quickly evolved into a crush on Peeta, which for some reason, Madge was more comfortable with. Maysilee, according to her, was working on some 'secret project' with Peeta. And he was so funny. And he was so nice. And he was 'never ever mean to her.' Mean, by Maysilee's definition meant saying no, so Madge took this to mean that Peeta was spoiling her rotten, but she didn't have time to worry about that.

She had hardly had time to enjoy a deep breath, or even a second alone, both of which she reveled in when she finally came to be standing in front of a mirror in her wedding dress, in a room with no one but herself and her thoughts for company. She stared at the dress, which had been one of the only aspects of the wedding that was incredibly important to her initially. It was a silk white gown that ended at her knees. The top was belted with a strand of pearls at her waist, and the top ended in a heart shape at the top of her breasts. The heart-shape connected to lace shoulders. It was sleeveless. She wore a pearl bracelet, and pearl earrings.

Her curls were pinned up at the back of her head, and trickled like water down the back of her neck. It tickled in a way that was unfamiliar, and she kept running her hand along the back of her neck and her shoulders to assure herself that it wasn't falling out of place.

As she took in herself in her dress, and fingered the lace that was delicately hemmed at her shoulders, she thought back to a time before she knew she would marry Gale, before she had Maysilee, before she even knew who Gale was, when marriage was simply a word to her, an obscure term that had no meaning, save for a photograph of her parents at their wedding.

Her father, though no one probably remembered him this way, looked more like he was a Seam resident than a merchant. He had dark hair and an olive complexion, though his eyes were blue and he was well dressed. He had gone salt and pepper grey so early in life that most people had forgotten that he ever looked that way.

In the photo, his arms were around his mother, who looked so much like Madge herself that it was startling. Vivacious, blonde, bright-eyed, and smiling in a way that Madge had never seen her to smile again. Madge had hired a seamstress to make her mother's dress, as best as she could recall it from the photo. She and Gale would look like her parents had on their wedding day. For some reason, this made her feel closer to the elusive family that she had never truly known, and never truly mourned.

Madge turned from the mirror to the door, and said breathlessly, "You can come in now."

Caridee's was the first face to poke in the door, her freckles and brown eyes seeming to leap off her face in excitement as she threw the door open, and broke into a smile. Annie was at her hip, and Madge couldn't help but smile as these two beautiful, kind women rushed to her, taking her hands, spinning her, expounding upon the beauty of the dress, and filling the room, which had previously felt empty and lonely, with life, energy, and love. Soleila stood in the doorway, nodding approval at Madge, understanding that now was not the time to nitpick.

Caridee exclaimed, in her distinctive and endearing District accent, "Well aren't you just the prettiest little piece of pie on the table!"

Annie, whose distant, sea-green eyes were surprisingly focused and steady today, nodded enthusiastically, adding her own surprisingly applicable District-ism, "a shining mother-of-pearl."

"Thank you," Madge said, emotion swelling in her chest and threatening tears. She sniffled, and then realized with a start, "Where's Katniss? It's getting on five o'clock isn't it?"

"4:45," Soleila corrected, nonchalantly.

Madge reassured herself. Katniss said she'd be back by five o'clock. She had, to no one's surprise, requested to spend the morning in the woods. Since the ceremony started at 5:30, she promised to be back at 5:00. This was to give her enough time to dress, but not too much time - so that she could avoid getting anxious or getting too much make up time with Soleila. Gale had given Katniss his watch, and a pat on the shoulder, teasing, "I was always better at reading the time from the sun. This way, you won't be late."

Katniss had taken the watch with a smile and a promise, and darted out the door. This seemed to be at Peeta's dismay, perhaps only because he was so nervous, or that he had been up most of the night working on the final preparations for the wedding. Madge would have felt guilty, except that Peeta performed so well under pressure, she knew it probably brought him calmer to have things to do to fill his time, rather than just to wait around, doing nothing.

In truth, Gale and Madge would probably be thanking Peeta for the rest of their lives for all he had done for them. They had asked him, not only to host, to bake, to clothe, but also to perform the wedding ceremony, as the officiate. There was no particular person in 12 who officiated weddings. It was the bride or groom's father who usually did it, but neither Madge nor Gale had a father left. Peeta, in addition, was the most well-spoken person in District 12. He was so kind, and genuine. He would surely be the best choice, and seemed honored.

Peeta was like that. He understood the meaning behind gestures, even if the eloquent words were not there to explain. The words, ineloquent though they were, came from Madge, since she and Peeta had known each other when they were younger, before the Games, before the Rebellion, before any of it.

"Peeta," she had begun, quietly, talking to him from the chair that he had so kindly brought into the kitchen so that people could talk to him about the problems that arose with wedding while he baked in preparation for the wedding.

Peeta let out a warm laugh. He recognized her tone by how many problems had been brought to him - hence the chair - that started out with just the mention of his name, 'Peeta.'

She coughed, and he stopped kneading the dough he had been working on to face her. "What is it this time, Madge?" he grinned. He really did do well when asked to rise to an occasion, no wonder he had survived the Hunger Games.

"Well, Gale and I-" she paused, trying to imagine how to phrase the question. "We thought that, well, since our fathers are gone, and we're not close with Haymitch, and, well, Hazelle's not very well-spoken, and- We thought that maybe, you might be the officiate for our Wedding."

The smile, as well as the color had dropped from Peeta's face. "Me?"

Madge, who had trouble stopping talking once she had started, continued, despite his less-than-excited reaction, "Well, yes. You do so well with crowds and you're so eloquent. Like the toast you gave the other night. You just... a-always know what to say." There was a long silence.

"Not right now, apparently," he whispered, color returning to his face.

"I'm sorry," Madge said quickly. "You've done enough. We've imposed so much and-"

Peeta caught Madge's eye, a solemn, earnest look on his face. "I would... be... so happy to do that for you. Honored." He averted his eyes, and kneaded his hands together a few times. Madge thought that maybe she should say something, but he seemed to be thinking. "After..." he began haltingly, "after I was hijacked, I thought maybe I had just about out-lived the good I could do anybody. To be such an important part of your union," He moved to her and took her hand, his eyes shining, "It would mean everything to me."

Madge had hugged him tightly, with more trust than she and Peeta had ever had between them. Knowing each other in their youth had not prepared them for the feeling of family that they now shared. Like Gale and Katniss, people could easily mistake Madge and Peeta for cousins, or even siblings, but had never shared the emotional bond to go along with that assessment, which is probably why no one had ever done so. Madge's joy that Peeta would be performing the ceremony was almost enough to negate her sadness at her father being unable to do so.

As promised, Katniss poked her head in the door at about 4:55, fully dressed in her gown, which Madge recognized as the one she'd worn the night Peeta proposed to her on television during the Victory Tour. Besides the dress though, she looked as though she had been in the woods. Twigs were tangled in her braid, and patches of dirt seemed to leap from her skin in the late-afternoon sunlight that streamed through the window.

Soleila gave a deep, but patient sigh, and re-braided Katniss's hair the way it had been for the Reaping, gently separating hair from twigs and debris as she did so. She washed Katniss's face and had finished just the bare minimum make up when Peeta poked his head in, announcing that it was time to line up for the ceremony.

Madge took a deep breath, held her bouquet to her chest, and tried to recall the details of the ceremony as they had laid them out during their brainstorming session.

"Coal buckets," Haymitch had blurted out. Everyone was surprised that he was the first one to contribute. "Used to be that witnesses brought gifts of coal in these fancy little buckets to put in the first toasting fire. If they could spare it, the guests brought coal to add, not just for the toasting fire, but so the couple would have coal in to ease their first few weeks of marriage."

Greasy Sae nodded seriously, a misty look in her eyes and added, "When things were better, witnesses used to make little speeches before they gave over their coal."

"Speeches?" Gale bristled next to Madge.

Greasy Sae, not catching his worried tone, explained, still nostalgic, but no nonsense as always, "Yeah, nothing fancy, just a few words wishing the couple happiness, good health, that type of thing."

Katniss had blushed as she added, "I remember that... someone does a trail of breadcrumbs... before the ceremony. To lay a path of prosperity for the couple to walk." Madge didn't pick up on the reason for the blush until Gale added,

"Of course you'd remember the part having to do with food, Katniss!" He gave her a shove, and they laughed. Madge was pleased that this brought her no ill feelings, or nagging doubts. Instead, she smiled along with them and rubbed Gale's knee assuringly.

"It wasn't just a symbol, either," Haymitch amended Katniss's statement. "The breadcrumbs attract Mockingjays. They gather in the trees around the ceremony, and sing the Wedding Song along with the guests, then, when the wedding is over they get the breadcrumbs."

"Good deal for them, then," Peeta laughed, and the way Katniss looked at him was a face Madge had never seen on Katniss. Benevolence. Pure, unadulterated joy, just at being next to him. Madge wondered if she, herself, ever could bring herself to wear such a true and vulnerable face for Gale in front of people. Surely she looked at him that way when it was just the two of them, but even in front of Maysilee they both showed restraint, as if displaying that their world would fall apart without the other invited the world to do so.

"There is a public toasting," Madge found herself remembering just glimpses of a bride and groom in 12 toasting rolls over a sort of chalice filled with burning coals.

"They use the coal brought by the witnesses," Haymitch explained.

Katniss couldn't seem to help herself as she added with excitement "And then there's a feast!"

Gale laughed heartily, and everyone joined in. Katniss looked sheepish, but Gale gave her shoulder a squeeze, affectionately. Peeta caught her eye and flashed her one of his winning smiles. Madge relaxed and joined in the laughter.

Madge studied Katniss for a moment. She looked healthier than she had ever been, in terms of weight, but the distance in her eyes that would always be there was hard to ignore. Madge could remember the same look of hunger, of loss in those eyes when she was nothing more than a starved girl from District 12, the quiet girl from the Seam, and Madge's only friend. She smiled to herself. No, Katniss Everdeen would never forget any ceremony involving a feast, and how could Madge blame her?

She couldn't, as she turned and took in her so-called 'Bride's maids.' The women in her life, who had, at different times brought so much joy to her, comforted her when she was lonely. Annie, Caridee, Katniss and even little Posy. They looked at her expectantly, and she could say nothing but raise her hands to them. Immediately taking the cue, they embraced her, petted her hair, and told her she looked so beautiful, that they were so happy, so proud. Madge tried to find any of these feelings, but in this moment, she could only breathe as she followed them down the stairs and out of the house, toward the rest of her life.

Dusk was only just falling on the meadow. A crowd of people much larger than Madge had imagined were camped out on blankets, stray rocking chairs or just sitting on the flowery grass. A small table had been set off to one side in front of an arch. Peeta, Gale, and his four witnesses were waiting for them off to one side, behind the crowd. Madge immediately sought Gale out, his silvery eyes glowing with anticipation in the waning light. He embraced her tightly, and whispered to her in a hushed voice, with his hand on the side of her face, his fingers caressing the spot behind her ear where her tattoo was proudly displayed, "You are beautiful."

She could only blush and take his hand in hers. A fiddle began, and Peeta took a flame from Haymitch, lit the coals brought to his large metal bowl already by the people already gathered. He gave them a look, a question. Madge saw Gale nod in assent. Peeta gave them a wide smile, and processed slowly around the crowd, which fell quiet.

Madge watched Hazelle give Mayilee a little nudge, and the two of them progressed around, Maysilee scattering breadcrumbs around with affected importance and a bright, proud smile on her face. Madge was suddenly thankful to Soleila, who had assured her that her makeup would stay true on her face however many tears fell. The sight of their daughter, of her baby, who had served as her only link to sanity when she thought she'd lost Gale, looking so beautiful in her little pink dress, and so happy to have the attention all on her as she processed with her grandmother, had brought a flood of tears down her face.

Maysilee tossed the last of the breadcrumbs rather unceremoniously in front of the pyre, and caught her eyes. Madge could only smile as the next pairs began their march. Annie and Caridee, then Katniss and Posy with tiny, decorative buckets of coal, walked slowly, stately, around the crowd and up to stand to Peeta's right. Then Vick and Rory, and Johanna and Gentry, all of them looking polished in their dark suit jackets, with their less-decorated, but brightly shining coal buckets. Then, silence.

Suddenly, a voice; Katniss's.

No words, just clear, joyful strains. The crowd shifted, everyone who was able stood, and looked expectantly to them. Madge felt frozen, overwhelmed, but with Gale at her side, giving her his widest grin, his face tracked with happy tears, she moved forward with him, toward their friends, and their daughter. All around them, familiar faces, all smiling, approving.

The walk seemed to take forever. She felt incredibly relieved when the singing stopped and they stood, hand in hand, with Maysilee tucked safely in front of them. One hand in Gale's one hand in hers, the three of them, standing united.

Peeta stepped forward and raised his arms. The crowd shifted again, and Madge could make out the quiet noises of people settling back into chairs and onto the ground.

"Welcome!" Peeta began, when the silence returned, "On behalf of Gale and Madge, I want to thank you all for coming tonight to witness their union. It has been a long time since we had something to celebrate here, and I hope you will all thank them for giving us something to be glad for, to bring us together." He continued on, but Madge could only smile, and alternated between staring at Gale, who now looked serious, listening intently to Peeta, and Maysilee, who had already, began to squirm a bit.

After a while, those whom they had chosen as witness to their wedding stepped forward, each saying their piece, congratulating them on their strength, their love, wishing them the best for the future, thanking them for their friendship. These Madge tried to listen to, but even as she tried to hold onto the words, they slipped through the cracks in her mind like raindrops through her finger tips. Luckily, she had always loved rain showers, and so resolved herself to letting their words hit all at once, like a storm. An overwhelming feeling of warmth, and love washed over her as she collected the few words and snippets like she had raindrops on her tongue when she was a young girl.

"I knew we'd be friends the moment I saw you, and I'm always eversoglad we are," Caridee had gushed to her, her face completely wet with tears, "I knew, before you did that you loved your war hero. We'd watch him on the tee-vee, and you would just stare like if you looked long enough you could bring him home to you... and you did. I know y'all are going to be so happy."

"Marriage is hard," Johanna had asserted, "But I don't know a lot of people stronger than Gale Force, here. Or Madge, for putting up with him for this long. You two can do it. You know how I know that?" Her question rang out in the nearing darkness, "Maysilee's strong too, and she'll make you."

"I thought you'd be mean," Vick had said somewhat sheepishly to her, "but my brother doesn't smile like that at anybody else, so you must make him happy. I suppose I can handle another sister, if it makes Gale smile."

"You two are my oldest friends," Katniss began in a trembling voice, "and this is the happiest I have ever seen either of you. Gale and I, and Peeta," she faltered. "We fought alongside each other... risked everything... so that people could know happiness like yours, but I think Gale didn't... and I know I didn't ever imagine that we would know that happiness ourselves. Don't ever let that go." At the end of her sentiment, she took Peeta's hand, and the look on his face almost broke Madge's heart.

She gave Gale's hand a squeeze and met his gaze, which reflected Peeta's to a T. She knew that what Katniss had said was true. They had fought completely selflessly, not thinking that they themselves would even survive, and not daring to hope that they might ever truly live again afterward. Perhaps this is why they had become so close so quickly when they had finally come back together. After all, Gale and Madge had planned to wed when their only witnesses were Gentry and Caridee. They weren't even certain that Gale's real family would attend, and now, each and every person in attendance was as essential to the ceremony as the very love around which it was based.

She silently thanked each and every one of them as again and again, they all said it, the words closed each speech as they tipped their coal baskets into the fire, "I love you both," "I love you all," "I love you."

When the speeches were over, Peeta led them both in the prescribed, legal vows, and they repeated after him, vowing to love, to protect, to keep as long as they lived. The words fell numbly from Madge's lips, as she saw in Gale's eyes, everything he was, everything he had been, and everything he would ever be to her.

Then, a surprise; Maysilee broke off from them and grabbed another small basket, which Madge had not noticed, from the side of the arch. Maysilee had on the look she liked to call 'her most serious face,' and directed it back and forth between them as she recited clearly rehearsed, but no less meaningful words, "We are a family. I made our toast bread myself because I love you and because I want to show everyone that we are a wonderful, Hawthorne family together." She held a lumpy, vaguely heart-shaped loaf up to them, her secret project with Peeta. Madge thought her heart might burst, as she pushed down a sob of happiness.

And in front of the community, the three Hawthornes toasted. As they fed one another first bites, Gale to Maysilee, Maysilee to Madge, Madge to Gale, Katniss began the first lines of the Marriage song.

_Home now together, you light the first fire_  
><em>Your home shall glow with countless pyres.<em>

Everyone else joined, harmonizing and echoing, recalling the melody and words out from the dust and ashes of their memories.

_Lit in the morning, smould'ring through night, _  
><em>Your love shall remain as true as this light.<em>

As the song went on, the Hawthornes fed one another the bread the smallest of them had brought forth. Taking care to blow in Maysilee's bits, playfully teasing one another before popping torn off pieces into smiling mouths.

_Should you tend it, should you mind_  
><em>Should you be true, should you be kind.<em>

The sun had reached the horizon, and pink flooded the meadow. The guests would recall for years afterward how beautiful and happy this young family had looked. The symbolic marriage of the Mayor's daughter and a fatherless boy from the Seam. A district united in love.

_This fire, your love, will brighten the days_  
><em>Until you find there's naught more to say.<em>

More Mockingjays appeared, drawn in by the music and the breadcrumbs, some of them beginning to chirp along, after all, there were not many voices they respected enough to fall silent to, but they seemed to understand the importance of this, and chirped in tune.

_When you have tended all the last coals, _  
><em>and bodies no longer hold your souls<em>  
><em>Know that the light of the fire, no longer yours, <em>  
><em>Now lends its glow to another pair's doors.<em>

Miraculously, the bread and the song were finished simultaneously, and Peeta, the same blinding smile on his face, held out his arms again, in that tiny silence after the singing, "It is my great honor to introduce The Hawthorne Family!"

The crowd did nothing, for the birds provided the applause, having arrived in scores exploded into a symphony of beauty.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Madge she took in the sight of her husband and child, her friends and community gathered together in love, bathed in the light of the gifted coal. Madge was happier than she had ever been before, and the feeling of unmatched happiness had been such a prevalent feeling as of late. She hoped, wondered, if it could really last forever, as they had vowed.

As the preparations for the feasting and dancing began, no one seemed to mind the ghosts that had no doubt come out to witness the ceremony. The wedding had, after all, been conducted on the Meadow, which served as the mass grave for the citizens of District 12 - including Madge and Peeta's families, Gale's mining crew, Seam Folk, and Merchants alike lay underneath the unassuming grasses. 


	24. Cake and Expectations

Chapter 24: Cake and Expectations

This moment was strangely nerve wracking for Peeta. All of his life he had been designing, frosting and decorating cakes, but not once, not ever before had he seen someone's reaction to his work. When he was younger the small cakes would sell before he was done frosting them. When he got better at them they were boxed carefully and opened at fancy parties he was definitely not invited to. Even Finnick and Annie's wedding cake had been barred from him; which made sense, but he had wanted to see their faces, especially since, whether he had been aware of it at the time or not, they were his friends.

Maybe it was strange that he hadn't thought twice about walking straight up to the head of the crowd and giving the ceremony, but stood now with sweaty palms, waiting to push cake out into the meadow. He took a deep breath to try to regain some composure, and wiped his damp hands on his dress pants. He heard a soft crinkle from his pocket, and lost what little poise he had successfully invoked.

Something else weighed on him, as he pondered making the cake's grand entrance, and that thing was a small piece of paper he had procured from the Justice Building earlier that day. He'd had it in his pocket for several hours. Throughout the day he had pulled it out and mulled over it. He thought about doing so now, but decided better of it. This time was for Madge and Gale, and the time for he and Katniss would come later, he had no doubt. The next few hours held a lot of potential for rejection, that was for sure.

Just as he was starting to convince himself that even if they hated the cake, they could still eat it as its decorations would take no merit from its taste, he felt a slight pressure at the small of his back - Katniss's hand, rubbing reassuringly against his tensed muscles.

"What are you waiting for?" Katniss's voice came quietly from behind him. When she looked at him with this honest question in her eyes- she really couldn't fathom what could be keeping him at the doorway- she, at least, knew that his creation would not be rejected. This gave him faith that he, himself, wouldn't be rejected, either. The paper could wait.

"Want to help me push it out?" He asked her, moving a bit so she had a space at the handle of the cart.

"Nope. This is all you." She rose up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, "It's beautiful. Be proud." Then she smiled at him. He looked at her, at the cake, and at the spinning and dancing already livening up the meadow. Gale and Madge deserved every moment of this celebration. Everyone did.

"I wish we could have had all of this. I wish we could have celebrated our wedding day, really... instead of hiding it," he said, staring dreamily out into the throng of guests, imagining Katniss in a white gown. When he turned back to her, she had transformed entirely, no longer was her face glowing with pride and gentleness. She was cold and angry, her silvery eyes dangerous and bright. "What's the matter?"

"I'm getting really tired of hearing about what our wedding could have been or should have been," she hissed, "Maybe I liked it the way it was."

"There wasn't anything _wrong _with it," he began, "we just didn't get to pick..."

"But we did. We did pick." She insisted harshly, her fists clenched and shaking at her sides, "We toasted because we wanted to. We didn't have to, I told you that. It _was_ the wedding we picked. We picked to have a wedding by ourselves rather than be forced to share it with the whole damn country. _That's_ what happened. That's what we _picked_."

"Katniss," Peeta began again, changing his tone, trying to be quieter, more gentle.

"And I never, _never_ wanted to get married in the first place. But you know what? If I had to get married, if I was ever going to get married, that's how I wanted to do it. I would choose it again, every time. And I would choose you again. Every time." She was flaming. The Girl on Fire was not an arbitrary moniker. Peeta fought for a moment against the harsh tone building on his tongue. Angry words were never the way he'd wanted his marriage to work.

Again, softly, he tried, "Katniss," and as though she somehow understood how hard he was trying to keep himself collected, her next words were more sensible, quieter.

"So when you go on about how we never had a cake and you didn't make our bread and nobody was there and it isn't even legal," she made a small, sad noise, but then said in an un-fittingly loud voice, "It just hurts my feelings!" and stomped off, leaving Peeta very much alone with his cake.

He scarcely had a moment to feel puzzled, irritated, and a little sad before Madge popped her head in. He tried to clear his head and wiped his face with a smile. Probably airing his marital issues to Madge on her actual wedding day wasn't a good idea. But her face had fallen completely slack anyway when she saw the cake.

"Oh, Peeta," she breathed, and stepped into the room, pressing the delicate fingers of one hand to her peach-pink lips. "It's... oh. It's beautiful." Peeta figured it was one of his best creations. Built out of intertwining patterns of lace, hearts and leaves, greens, browns and pinks with everything winding together like one perfect tree. And in tiny, perfect letters their name on each leaf and heart, _Hawthorne_. The whole thing wasn't terribly big, but it was fantastically intricate and seemed to embody each member of their family, from the dark green of Gale, the white lace of Madge and the pink hearts for Maysilee.

"Do you like it?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady, Madge's eyes had filled with tears.

She could only repeat, "Oh, Peeta. It's beautiful. It's beautiful." As she pulled him into a tight hug and added, "Thank you. For everything you've done. I can't imagine how we would have put this wedding together without you."

Peeta only shook his head again, "No, I was happy to do it. Like I said, I just want to be useful and make people happy. It feels good."

"And you're good at it, Peeta. I hope that you have people who make you happy." Madge was very genuine as she took his hand, "I'm so glad that you and Katniss have one another."

"You and Gale, too," he smiled, and gave her hand a squeeze. He started to release it, but she caught it. He looked at her, puzzled. Her face had changed, she looked pained, uncertain.

"Peeta," she said his name very quickly, but then froze up. He gave her hand another squeeze and turned fully to her, giving her the whole of his attention. The gesture helped, and she seemed to relax a bit as she continued. "Do you ever... think about how we don't look like how we used to."

Peeta's thoughts went to his leg, and his other hand went to one of the many burn scars on his neck. This night had not gone exactly as he had hoped, so far.

Madge looked horrified, "Oh Peeta, no! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean- I only meant," she tugged at the shoulders on her dress, which hung just a bit loose. "When we were younger, it was always Gale and Katniss who were too thin."

Peeta understood immediately what Madge meant. Gale and Katniss, so handsome and strong, filled out their formalwear proudly, whereas he and Madge had to be sort of tailored into theirs in a way that no one would notice how ill the clothing fit.

"Sometimes," Peeta finally answered her question. His voice sounded hollow, and distant, even to him. He tried to shake the feeling of numbness, and put more inflection back into his voice. It took effort. "I'm grateful... that I survived... that we all survived... but it's no surprise our bodies didn't bounce back. Katniss and Gale were used to starving, their bodies used to making the most out of every calorie and nutrient they took in."

"I just," Madge picked at her dress again, clearly wishing for her youthful figure to fill it, rather than her current one. "I wish that-"

"Madge," Peeta cut her off with a hug. "You're going to choose now to get insecure about how you look in your dress? Gale already said yes!"

Madge laughed. To his relief, it seemed he had managed to dismiss the thought from her mind. Too bad it had taken root in his, reminding him of all the ways that he was different from the Peeta that Katniss had 'married' so long ago.

"Oh Peeta, I wish we all lived closer together." Madge said, pulling away from his hug to continue gaping at the cake.

"Me too, but we can make the best out of tonight and the next few days," Peeta reasoned, thankful to turn the conversation to a happier topic, "And we'll all be on the voting tour together."

"Yes. And we'll have the best of tonight. Especially with this fantastic cake." She reasoned, "Will you bring it out now?"

"If you want me to. You can do it, if you'd rather." Peeta offered, secretly hoping that she might want to bring it out herself and he might think of what he could say to Katniss when they inevitably ran into one another very publicly in the next few hours.

"No, no, of course not. You made it," as though she could sense his apprehension, but assumed it must be associated with the cake and nothing else, she declared, "And everybody should know that you did. It's about time you got some credit for something, Peeta Mellark." With that, she gave him a pat on the back and was gone. He was alone again with the cake and that small, folded piece of paper in his pocket. It had started to feel very heavy, and bulky, and he rubbed at it self-consciously, hoping for some reason that it didn't show.

With that he took a final breath and held it for as long as he could, the way he had each time he'd entered the Hunger Games to keep from hyperventilating on the platform. He took slow, even steps, acutely aware of his ever-present limp at he made his way out from the tent where they had kept the cake and into the crowd of dancing guests, most of whom fell silent in awe at the work of edible art that graced the tray in front of him.

Gale had never expected to get married, really. He had always wanted to, somewhere in his heart. His family, his younger siblings were so completely essential to his happiness, to making his life worth living, that he knew a family was in his future; but since when he was younger, the only girl he was interested in marrying was Katniss - and marriage was not in Katniss's vocabulary until Peeta Mellark came along - it had always seemed like a far-off daydream, rather than an actual possibility.

He hadn't even really let himself believe it until he and Madge marched, arm in arm, through a crowd of their loved ones earlier that evening. He had expected something catastrophic, an earthquake, an attack, to stop their marriage from happening. Needless to say, the ceremony had gone off without a hitch besides he and Madge both nearly dehydrating themselves to death, emotionally overwhelmed and sobbing like children.

He had never really 'pictured' his wedding day, the way he had heard others talk about. Wasn't sure he'd live to see it, but now, as he twirled around effortlessly with Posey standing on his feet to an upbeat fiddle tune, it felt real - almost as real as a hunt, as a fight, as making love - all things that brought him so painfully present, sometime Gale wondered if he ever truly lived when he was doing something else. His sister's bright, smiling face burned into his memory, and he vowed to himself to try to memorize every detail of the evening, to get him through the times in his life that were difficult, like fights with Madge, nightmares about the war, and fits of uncertainty over his fathering abilities.

He want to remember everything, even the peculiarity of the moment when Katniss Everdeen stalked her way over to him, pink dress floating behind her, exceedingly more gracefully than her body's agitated movements. She stopped at a respectful distance, and was patiently waiting for the song to end, but Gale sensed she needed to talk to someone - to talk to him. It had been a long time since Katniss actually needed anything from him.

He met Posy's gaze, and smiled at her. He was usually terrible at making excuses - Maysilee had ensured he was reminded of that daily - but this one rolled easily off his tongue, "Why don't you go have another piece of cake, Posy?"

She was a 9-year old girl who'd spent her early childhood in poverty. He did not need to ask her twice. She kissed his cheek and whisked off, giggling and grinning, glowing with a simple sort of innocence the way he never had as a child. He was grateful for the life that he had been able to give her in District 2.

Katniss seamlessly stepped into his arms, and once again, their bodies moved in sync, the way they hadn't since they were teenagers. The song changed to a slow, dreamy melody, more appropriate for swaying, than dancing. They had never danced together - not like this. He could recall awkwardly dancing near to her, but it was to faster, folksier dances that were more traditional to 12, never close like this.

Katniss's immediacy was bittersweet, as she leaned in close to him. For a while, they just swayed, not talking, barely even looking at each other - or rather, barely making eye contact. He couldn't help but look at her, taking her in, smelling her. She smelled like the woods, like the dying leaves and dewy grass. It shouldn't surprise him. He knew that's where she had been for most of the day. A part of him mourned that he hadn't been able to join her, to have one last day as a child in the woods with his puppy love, but it was far too late for that. He hadn't been that person for a long time.

The scent of the forests that surround District 12 was so familiar to him, especially when combined with the way that he remembered that Katniss always smelled, like rocks drying in the sun. It was an earthy scent, and its familiarity seductive. Katniss was beautiful, of course. Her piercing eyes, her sun-kissed skin, dappled with freckles, and her strength, which she probably didn't realize that she still possessed. Not only was it evident in her physical prowess - the line of her collarbones, the way she filled out the dress she had simply looked 'young' in as a girl, but in the way she carried herself, held her shoulders back. She was beginning to heal.

Katniss didn't look like his wife. She looked like him; and he loved her for it, but not in the way that he had thought as a boy.

He leaned into her neck, almost overwhelmed by her, and whispered in her ear, "Katniss Everdeen, you are beautiful."

She pulled away from him, abruptly. Uncertainty flashed across her features.

"What?" He asked her, wrapping an arm around the small of her back and pulling her back into the dance. She was all knotted muscles and stiff movements. She wrinkled her nose, seemed to be considering something, but smoothed it over with a light laugh.

"You don't look so bad yourself, Gale Hawthorne."

"Thanks," he felt himself grinning, and she relaxed under his touch. "So, what's got you all worked up? I hope you didn't come over here to upset your poor husband."

"Of course not," she breathed, "But that doesn't mean I'm not upset with him."

"And what did he do to you?"

"He- He doesn't think our marriage is real," she said this very quietly, and even over the quiet tones of song that was being played, Gale had to practically hold his breath to hear her. He thought she might say more, but she stayed silent, and so he let out the breath, and gave her a twirl.

When he brought her back into him, he wrapped an arm around the small of her back, just to be certain she couldn't detach and find some other sympathetic ear to dance with her. Only when he had her securely, did he dare to correct her, "He doesn't think your marriage is legal. Actually, scratch that, he knows it's not. Everyone knows it's not."

Katniss let out a huff, and didn't say anything, but didn't attempt a fast exit either.

"Maybe that's- really hard on him, in the face of all this," Gale tried, sweeping his eyes across the celebrations for a moment, allowing himself to feel renewed pride in his wedding day, then he brought his attention back to Katniss. Defending Peeta was not something he had made a habit of until very recently, but from what he had learned about his once rival for Katniss's affections in the past weeks; Gale knew that his and Madge's proud and public ceremony must be devastating for him.

"I guess," Katniss had gotten even quieter.

"What?" Gale teased, trying to get a rise out of her. It worked.

"I guess you're right," she hissed at him. She squirmed in his grip. He just held her tighter.

"I'm not saying I'm always right, but if I'm taking Peeta's side over yours, Catnip, you know I am." He tried to keep his voice soft, light, but the use of her old nickname seemed to hit home. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, and fell silently and stubbornly down her cheeks as she leaned into him, and again, they swayed in silence.

This could have been their wedding. If things had played out like Gale had imagined, if Prim had never been reaped, if it hadn't been for Peeta Mellark... if... if... if... Katniss would have cried then, too - about their inevitable children, and the possibility that they might be taken away by the Games, by starvation. Gale realized that he had been a fool. He never would have wanted to marry Katniss when things were like that.

"Do you think," he paused, "That you would have found Peeta anyway? Without the Games?"

"I don't know," Katniss's voice was hard again, but she didn't pull away. She must have stopped crying. "I try not to think about what things would have been like without the Games... doesn't do any good... but... yes. I like to think I would have. I need him. I've never needed anybody, but I need him."

"Then maybe," Gale braced himself for her to flee, "You should give the guy a break, and consider his feelings about your marriage. You guys could have a do over... I guess. Toast again, sign a paper. Hell, Madge and I could witness for you, it would be the least we could-"

"I'll think about it."

It was the best he, and Peeta, could hope for. She didn't run away, at least, but it was clear she was done talking about her problems with Peeta to Gale.

"Daddy!" A tiny voice squeaked from below.

Maysilee, whom Gale was starting to assume would interrupt almost any time it was the most inconvenient, was suddenly tugging at his pant leg. He broke the dance with Katniss, and still, she did not run. Instead, she picked up Maysilee so that she could be eye level with Gale.

Maysilee's serious eyes met his, as she pointed out, with her tiny, chubby finger, across a few dancing couples to where Finn and River appeared to be having a "funny face stare down" in which they were making the strangest faces, trying to make the other laugh. It made Gale laugh, certainly.

"What is going on there?" he asked his daughter, choking down his laughter because she looked more frazzled than he'd ever seen her.

"They both want to dance with me," Maysilee's tone was level but belied by a strong undertone of childish frustration. "And I said we could all dance together. But they don't want that."

Gale burst out laughing, and Katniss turned beet red, almost dropping Maysilee in embarrassment. It seemed that love triangles were a genetic trait in Seam women. All Gale could say to his poor distraught daughter was, "You'll understand when you're a little older."

"That's fine, Daddy," Maysilee replied, humorlessly. "But what do I do right now?"

"I have an idea," Katniss hitched Maysilee up close so she could whisper into the girl's hair. Gale couldn't make out quite what she'd said, but when she set Maysilee down, she was off like a lightning bolt, darting through the dancing legs until she was out of sight.

"What did you tell her?" Gale asked Katniss, who looked a little too pleased with herself.

"I just told her to dance with who she wanted to dance with." Katniss smirked.

Gale was about to inquire further, when he caught the peculiar mischievous twinkle in Katniss's eye and followed her gaze to where Maysilee was curled against Peeta's chest. He was holding her well off the ground, her feet dangling, little shoes long gone, and her tights shredded from the day's activities.

Gale laughed again, and turned back to face Katniss, who met him with a kiss on the cheek, "She's beautiful, Gale. The best thing you've ever done." It wasn't an insult.

"Best thing I'll ever do," he agreed.

After just the tiniest beat, Katniss turned her gaze back to Maysilee, and said, quickly, "I want her to have Cinna's dresses."

It was Gale's inclination to protest. He had always hated the way that the Capitol had paraded Katniss around, pretty as a picture, only to send her to slaughter not once, but twice. He thought better of it, and bit his tongue. He knew that she must have some good reason, and chose to let her explain.

"I'm going to keep some of them, but..." She trailed off, miles away. She was probably remembering her stylist, Cinna, whom Gale owed a great debt, though they had never met, since it was Cinna who first showed the entire world what Gale himself had seen inside Katniss all along - beauty, and of course, fire, both destructive and rejuvenating, passionate and relentless. Fire had a duality. The same could be said for most things which were a part of nature. Katniss Everdeen was no exception.

"They were meant to be worn by a beautiful young girl from the Seam, not... some scarred woman who... not by me," was all she could say.

"Thank you," was the only reply that seemed appropriate.

Katniss shot Gale a fleeting look. He could sense that she was about to flee. Maybe it was the shift in her step, or something more subtle, like a shift in the breeze. He made an attempt to hold her, but, as similar attempts had failed when they were younger, so did this one. She seemed to slip through his fingers until she was a good few feet away from him, and retreating fast.

He realized, with a start, that this was partially to do with the fact that Madge had come to cut in. He panicked, found her face. She didn't look angry. Quite the opposite, she was intoxicated from the wine, the love, and of course, Peeta's wonderful cake. As Katniss bowed out, and he took his wife in his arms, he realized, that after over 20 years of being on the outside of the Mellark Bakery looking in, he had finally had a piece of the cake he'd coveted. As he and Madge drifted into a swaying rhythm, and he felt her hands clasped around his neck like she might never let go, he decided it had been worth the wait.

Peeta was pulled away from serving his cake and basking in the waves of compliments that accompanied each bite by a very cheerfully insistent Maysilee and her demands to dance.

He acquiesced immediately, but was surprised when she firmly planted each of her tiny feet on top of his. His heart sank when he realized what she wanted. Though he had never tried it, he knew his prosthetic would never be able to lift a little girl. It stung to think that he would never be able to do that, not with Maysilee, not for their children (if he could ever change Katniss's mind).

"Why aren't you dancing?" Maysilee persisted, with a tiny tug on his arm.

_Because, I'm an incomplete person_. He shoved the dark thought out of his head as quickly as it had appeared. He picked her up and placed her just a step away from him and sat down on the grass. Maysilee knelt down next to him, her silvery eyes, so much like Katniss's, shining in the moonlight. He was at once extremely glad that she would never know the reaping, and sad that he still would have to explain this to her. No reason to lie to children, though.

"A long time ago," he began, as he unlaced his dress shoe, "Katniss and I had to do something very dangerous that we didn't want to do. And we saved each other. But I got hurt," he slowly removed his shoe, "and I couldn't... well the doctors couldn't keep my leg," he rolled his sock off and displayed the flat plastic foot, the strange, hinging ankle and the long, fake thickness of his prosthetic calf. All of it eerie white plastic strangeness. Maysilee let out a tiny gasp. "So they gave me this leg. And it's attached pretty good, but I don't think it would stay on if we danced on it." He finished quietly.

She was silent for a long while, but then, her voice came in a quick whisper, "Is it a secret?"

Peeta was taken aback, "Well, no. I mean, it's not a secret." He didn't feel she needed to know exactly how public the loss of his leg had been.

"What's under there?" she asked, leaning just a bit closer.

"Nothing. My leg is gone. It got hurt too bad to get better so they gave me this one instead."

"Hmm," she said, examining it critically, "Does it come off?"

"Yeah. I don't take it off though, much. Just sometimes to clean it."

"Does it hurt?" Her eyes were narrowed now. She held her little hands tightly together on her lap.

"Sometimes. But not mostly," he moved his knee so that she could see how the ankle worked.

"Can I touch it?" She whispered.

"If you want to. Sure."

She unclasped her hands and took hold of the foot with both of them. "Cold!" she proclaimed. "Can you feel it?"

"Nope," Peeta shook his head ruefully, "not a thing."

Maysilee's head snapped up, and searched his face with incredible concentration, "Does it make you sad?" she asked quizzically.

He was quiet for a moment, but then decided again that it was better to tell the truth. "Sometimes."

She scrunched up her face in displeasure, "But why? If it doesn't hurt?"

"I'm glad I can walk," he tried to explain, "but it does make me feel sad. I do miss my real leg."

"Well, of course you do. It doesn't look like a leg at all." She said matter-of-factly, "but if I had a leg, I would color on it. That way it would be beautiful. Maybe you should color it with flowers?"

"Paint it?" Peeta mused wonderingly.

"Yes. I remember, Reela, a girl from my school, she broked her arm, and we all got to color on her cast. It was beautiful." She looked at him, expecting that he hold up his side of the conversation, but his mind had gone immediately to his paint box. He could make this foot like his own. It would never be the same, but he could make it his own. _He_ could make it complete. "And plus," Maysilee added, "I think it is cool and tough."

He scooped her into his arms for a hug, fighting back tears. "Thanks, Maysilee. Do you want to dance now?"

"Yes. But you have to wear your shoes!" She said sternly. After he had replaced his shoes and socks and picked himself off the ground, Maysilee pointed to his leg again, "See? It is a secret! I bet nobody even knows it's there!"

"Well," Peeta said, "Now _you _know," and swept her into his arms for a dance as she giggled. He had never danced with someone quite so small, and so he resorted to just picking her up and letting her sort of dangle from his arms, her tiny hands resting around his neck. She leaned her head on his chest, the way she had obviously seen the women doing in other dancing couples around the field.

It actually made Peeta blush a bit, not out of any actually romantic inclinations, but rather, at the slight absurdity of this tiny girl, trying to dance with him like a full grown woman might. She smelled sweet, like Madge, and earthy like Gale. The perfect combination of her parents. Her hair was soft as he brushed some of it behind her ear that had drifted into his face.

He had learned a lot about this girl, this tiny person while he had baked her parents' toast with her. She was serious, and smart, and quiet, and interested in just about everything. He was in love with her, more than any child he had ever met. If he and Katniss ever felt ready for children, he hoped to have a daughter like her.

This dance was no exception to her quiet, serious nature. She stayed nestled into him, only sighing or humming along to the music as they swayed. He could feel her tiny heart pitter pattering against his loud, pounding one. He let himself relax, and let his eyes drift around the Meadow. He had been watching Katniss dance with Gale for some time and found, even as he was a little irritated with her, that it did not bother him. The way Gale was looking at her seemed a bit... intense considering that it was his wedding day, but he knew that it was their first time in such close proximity in years, and how could he blame her? Katniss was beautiful.

It brought him a small bit of relief when he caught sight of Madge just as she approached Katniss and Gale. Katniss gave an obnoxious but playful bow and stepped back, as the newly married couple wrapped themselves together. He tried not to watch Katniss, knowing it might break his heart if she didn't come to him, and so he shifted his gaze shifted to Beetee, who was having a lively conversation with Greasy Sae.

They were interrupted by Hazelle and Bristol who were came waltzing through. Her dance card for the night had been filled by the surviving members of Gale's old mining crew - no one wanting to let her feel her husband's absence on such a joyous day. A swirl of pink caught his eye, Annie's dress floating ephemerally as she and Johanna, as mindlessly in love as could be, twirling and twirling but never releasing their hands, despite the somewhat confused stares from some of the older guests. He found Gale's little brothers, Vick and Rory learning a strange and energetic dance that involved a lot of stomping and clapping from their new friends from District 10, Caridee and Gentry.

His eyes, again, found Madge and Gale. They looked so whole, so complete together as they danced. Peeta wondered for a moment if he and Katniss looked as striking together as they did. Peeta certainly didn't judge himself to be as tall or as handsome as Gale, and though Katniss was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, he knew that Madge had a classic beauty that was undeniable. They looked right together; balanced. He gave Maysilee a little nudge with his forehead, and pointed with the hand not holding her up,

"See how happy your mom and dad are?" Peeta whispered. Maysilee let out a great yawn and nodded. In the past few days, Peeta had learned that sleep crept up on the girl with incredible swiftness.

"I think they have a crush on each other," she mumbled sleepily against his shoulder.

"You know what? I think so too," Peeta confirmed, as he felt the little girl become heavier against him. He wondered, briefly, what he was going to do with the bridal couple's sleepy four-year-old. He didn't have to wonder for long, when he caught Hazelle's eye from across the field. She was to him in an instant and taking Maysilee into her arms.

"Gramma," Maysilee mumbled, "I wanna dance some more,"

"You can dance all you want in your dreams, my little Maysie." Hazelle said in that gentle but firm voice that could only be perfected after twenty-some years of mothering. Then she carried her granddaughter out into the night without a glance back at Peeta.

Peeta felt he would never get the chance to act on his own accord, as Katniss had somehow materialized before him, looking a bit sheepish. He tried to harden his face, but he could only think of how beautiful she looked in the moonlight, how glad he was to be married to her, and how wonderful the rest of their lives could be. He offered out his hands without a word, and she fell into his arms.

"Sorry," she said in an almost imperceptible voice, clinging to him carefully with her fingers spread wide against his back.

"Me too," he replied, as he rested his cheek on her soft, forest scented hair, "Want to dance?" he offered after they had stood there for a while. "I've had quite the warm up with Maysilee," he smiled at her. She nodded, and they swayed into the fray, dancing and twirling and laughing together, without a thought of the past or the future.


	25. Places We've Been Before

Chapter 25: Places We've Been Before

Katniss sat on the edge of the bathtub with her feet submerged. Any shoes besides boots apparently could cause her feet to hurt. Many times in the Capitol she had been forced into tortuous heels, but tonight she had worn a pair Soleila had lent her. They were flat, simple dress shoes, but still her toes were pink, and her arches achy. Or maybe it had been the dancing, rather than the shoes that had caused the soreness. She reached in and squeezed her feet in various places, trying to relieve whatever pressure points in her muscles were all knotted up.

The events of the day rippled over her as she watched the bubbles fade from the tub. Gale and Madge were married now, a new Hawthorne family. A smile crept onto her lips while she remembered their ceremony, the tears in Gale's eyes as he vowed, forever, to love and protect his wife. He really loved her, then. Perhaps years ago, in a simpler time, the thought would have crushed her. Now it only made everything feel easier, smoother. She gave up on her feet, resigning to rest her hands in her lap and just rest.

The future laid out before her in strange, vibrant clarity. A life with Peeta and the bread cart. Hunting and baking, baking and hunting. First, a trip around Panem, with their friends... if only they could convince Haymitch to join them. The thought of actually getting to _see_the country they had all worked so hard to salvage, was thick, bright with hope.

It felt strange to have so much hope - the thought of touring Panem to help people learn how to run their own government, but mostly a life, a real life with Peeta, with their friends. This idea bloomed in her head. Friends. Real friends. People to talk to, do things with, laugh with. It seemed so foreign, so breakable that she felt a few tears come to her eyes.

Something was missing, too.

She searched for it awhile, thinking of Prim, thinking of Finnick, but their absence didn't feel like missing, didn't feel as much like the hole that had been blown in her heart in the Capitol. It wasn't loss. It was fear. She realized with a start that she was not afraid. There was no fear. She could go forward from this moment with impunity; without fear holding her back. She was still musing over this when she heard Peeta's unmistakable steps on the stairs.

He appeared in the doorway, and she paused for a moment, her thoughts moving toward how strangely handsome he was. Still in his suit from the wedding, his tie loosened and his face with lines of happiness creased over it. And, she noted. He had a pen, and a somewhat crumpled piece of paper.

But he set the paper down on the sink, before she could ask, and removed his socks, splashed his feet, equal parts real and not real, into the water. Wordlessly, she laced her fingers with his, lay her head on his shoulder and let out a small sigh. Peeta. Friends. Hope. This was what she had been too afraid to experience. Love. Real love.

Peeta let out a small cough, and Katniss noticed, looking at him now, he seemed strangely nervous. She squeezed his hand and searched his face, remembering a few nights ago when his pupils went black and the hijacking overtook him, if only for a moment. She was prepared for this to happen again, and to stay by his side. She found his eyes to be as they were at his best - swimming blue pools, like the lake in the sun.

"I got us... um... a paper," he said meekly, sadly.

"That paper?" she asked, indicating it on the counter behind them with a nod of her head.

"Yep," he replied simply. She waited for him to explain, but watched his features work through several different emotions before she decided just to ask him,

"What kind of paper?"

"It's..." he turned to face her, took her other hand in his, "I don't want to put any pressure on you, I just... if you don't want it, we don't have to sign it." Several thoughts flickered through her mind, but none of them made any sense. She looked at him questioningly, until finally he said, very quietly, "It's a marriage license."

Her eyebrows rose without her permission, and he was already sloshing out of the tub, apologizing, murmuring that it was a silly idea. But she caught his hand. A charged moment of silence passed. "What does it say?" she asked after a moment and darted her eyes up to meet his. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest.

He rubbed his thumb over her hand, staring intently at it, refusing to meet her eyes. He breathed out, loudly, but then began to recite very quietly, "It says that I, Peeta Mellark, and you, Katniss Everdeen, being both of sound mind and body," she couldn't help but let out tiny snort at that, "do solemnly proclaim on This day the First of October, in This the Third Year of Peace, to care for one another, to keep one another, to be faithful to one another, to be as one in marriage from this day forward, as long as we both shall live." These words tumbled from his mouth so easily that Katniss knew he must have spent all day reading over the paper, memorizing it, pouring over it. The thought made her feel an even greater admiration for him.

He stared at her, looking almost as scared as in the arena.

"I don't..." Katniss began, but immediately knew this was the wrong way to start from the crushed look on Peeta's face, the way every part of his body suddenly sagged, but barreled forward all the same, "I don't disagree with any of that," she said a little more clearly, next, words she had never spoken to him out loud before, "I love you, but I still don't know _why_..."

Peeta breathed deeply, "Last time we got married, we did it so that no one could take it from us."

"The _first_ time, the _only_time." She muttered,

"Katniss," Peeta said seriously, "Can we just talk about this?"

"I don't know what you want. If you want to be legally married, that's fine, I'll sign the paper," she sulked, then added, "It wouldn't make us any more married to me."

"It's not about that, though," he tried. Dammit. He was so patient about this, but for some reason, every word that left their lips seemed to be an inch off of the walls of the room. She began to feel claustrophobic, anxious. She felt the urge to bolt, run, and escape the stifling air in the suddenly tiny bathroom.

"Well, what is it about then? Because I'm not going anywhere. We're married." As soon as she said it, she knew that it was true. The urge to flee left her, and she began to feel grounded, and level headed. It helped her to really listen to what it was Peeta wanted, the way Gale had suggested. Just listen to him.

"It's about... it's about not being married by default. It's about choosing to make this life together. Making a real commitment, Katniss, to keep trying. To make a life together. A _new_ life." This silenced her for a moment. She listened to him breathe slowly. It was his habit to control his breathing when he got frustrated or angry, "It's about being happy and celebrating that we _do_have each other, we did choose each other. Instead of... we have to have each other."

Katniss tried to match his breathing. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. She wrapped her hands around the edge of tub, holding on a little too tightly. Trying to maintain the feeling of being grounded. In, hold, out. In, hold, out.

"But," she stammered, "I am happy I have you." Her voice began to quiver, and she bit her lip to steady it. "I hate that you don't know that, no matter how many times I say it!"

"I do know it," Peeta choked on his emotions, but managed to go on, "But we never changed the way people saw us. We aren't like Madge and Gale... they're a family. They share a last name. When they're presented to the public during the Voting Tour, they're going to be Madge and Gale Hawthorne, and we are just going to be Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen. The same as we always were. The 'Girl on Fire,' and 'the boy who loved the girl on fire.' The Victors from District 12. I don't want to be Fire or Victors or any of that, I just want to be Peeta and Katniss, a family."

"So you want me to be what? Katniss Mellark?" Katniss couldn't help it. She didn't want to be a Mellark. She didn't want their family to be the Mellarks, or the Everdeens, just them. Just Katniss and Peeta - and suddenly, she understood. That is what Peeta wanted too. To be new. To be themselves. Together.

Peeta sighed. His voice came out thick, and tired, and almost devoid of the emotion that had carried him through his argument so far, "In District 6, when a couple gets married, they combine their last name, sort of a short hand. It's the same way that they label intersections on maps."

"How do you know that?" Katniss couldn't help but be impressed.

"Uhm," Peeta was taken aback at her change in tone. "The Morphlings told me, during the Quarter Quell training... when we were painting together. They knew that we were engaged, and so they were asking me what we would change our names to when we were wed."

Katniss felt a stab of guilt for never having conversed with the Morphlings, or even learning their names. "Did they have any suggestions?"

"Everlark."

It was perfect. Katniss repeated it, "Everlark," the reverence resonated in her voice, which had lost its unsteadiness.

Peeta looked at her strangely, "You like it?"

Katniss could only nod. She wanted their name to ring in her ears forever. "Say it again."

Peeta blushed, "Everlark."

She knew that Peeta was right; this new Panem was no place for fire, or for Victors. It was a place for love, for forgiveness, for rebirth. She and Peeta would serve as a beacon of hope, and of proof, that real and lasting change was possible. Where before there had been two fire mutts, two weapons, two incomplete people, there was now a family. A new family, with a new name, for a new Panem. She thought of Prim as she whispered, "Okay." Her voice was almost unrecognizably calm, as she finally said, "I'll sign the paper." She corrected herself, "I want to sign it."

Immediately, tears tracked down Peeta's face, and his face crumpled in a sob before it broke out into a wide grin. He laughed as he pulled her out of the tub, held her close to him. They stood there for at time, both laughing and crying just a little. When they finally let each other go, what felt like a lifetime later, she reached for the certificate and pen, still resting where Peeta had set them on the sink.

"Wait," he said, "I thought first we could... I baked for us."

"We toasted already," Katniss protested, "years ago."

"I know, but now we can do it for real. We even got to hear the song, and eat cake, and look nice. We can really do this," he said earnestly, "Do it right, and no one needs to be here, just us. Like you wanted. But without any attention... like you wanted."

This brought tears to Katniss's eyes. Without another moment's hesitation, she swooped the paper and the pen off of the sink and brought it down into their kitchen, where, as promised, a small golden loaf awaited them. She went to turn on Peeta's convection oven to toast over, when he came up behind her and rerouted her to the old, wood-burning stove. He did not have to tell her that they should build the fire themselves, together.

And so a fire was built, both of them adding sticks for kindling and a single, skinny log. Peeta took the bread in his hands and tore off two pieces, handing one to her. They toasted as they had when they were children, with forks over a small fire, switching hands in the heat, feeding one another slowly, tears tracing down their cheeks. Katniss savored the buttery bits of bread, marveling at the similarities between this and their first toasting - the bathtub, the fire, and the remnants of fancy clothing they both wore, down to her pink dress. One thing was different, though. One thing that wasn't there before. There was no trembling, no sadness; there was only the best of the two of them.

Peeta and Katniss. Steadiness and fire.

After eating a good portion of the bread, they took up the pen in turns and signed their names.

Katniss Everlark.

Peeta Everlark.

The next day, they would need witnesses to make the paper official. Perhaps they would have Gale and Madge sign it, as Gale had offered, or maybe Haymitch? For tonight, all they needed was the glow of the fire they had built together, and their new name, that declared them, once and for all, in everyone's eyes, including their own, a family.

Gale awoke, his senses struggling to work through the haze brought on by the evening of drinking and dancing he'd shared with his friends and family, and of course, his wife, Madge. Madge Hawthorne. Even just thinking her name made him smile. They were really a family now, legally, to everyone, the way they had been between them for at least a year, and he liked to think more.

"Madge Hawthorne," he whispered her name. He turned to the tangle of blankets she'd folded herself into after they'd consummated their marriage. She'd fallen immediately to sleep, or so he'd thought. He'd soon followed. Now, as he tugged at the covers, he unraveled them to reveal no warm body nestled at their center.

Madge was gone.

He sat bolt upright, "Madge." He spoke her name louder this time, filling the dark room with it. His answer came, not from her, but from the whispering wind outside.

His heart leapt into his throat. She would have heard him speak, were she anywhere in this house in the Victors' Village, which Peeta had let them use as a marriage suite of sorts. In an instant, he was on his feet, pulling his pants on and buckling them as he tripped his way down the stairs, terror causing clumsiness in his careless steps.

He snatched his tuxedo jacket from the hook where it hung by the door and slipped it on, without bothering with a shirt. Barely 30 seconds from when he sat up, he was out the door, jogging at a clipped pace through the Victors' Village toward the square.

It was fall, and the cold nipped at his bare skin. His breath was visible, coming in clouds as he let it out in ragged huffs, loudly whispering Madge's name into the night air. He didn't want to alert the sleeping citizens of the District 12, or his wedding guests. No point in starting a District-wide panic.

He was unsure of where he was going, but his bare feet seemed to carry him involuntarily through the empty square past the meadow to where, somehow, he knew he'd find her.

More dressed for the weather than he was, but still shivering, she crouched in the rubble and ashes that used to be her home. She had lived on the outskirts with her parents, so, even though the bodies had been cleared, the broken pieces of her house had yet to be collected.

She was weeping, he recognized the sound as it reached his ear, and his heart fell.

"Madge," he whispered. She tensed, and he didn't move closer as he asked, fear of her answer settling in the pit of his stomach, "Aren't you happy?"

She spun around, and rose to her feet in a quick, frantic motion. Her face looked a bit wild, tired, and strained with unreadable emotions. She opened her mouth to try to speak; instead, she was overtaken by a round of sobs that brought her back to her knees.

As she collapsed, Gale's concern overcame his fear and he knelt beside her. He reached a hand out to touch her quivering shoulders. He could see her shoulder blades, prominent through the sweater she had wrapped herself in to guard against the cold.

He hated that she had never gained back the weight she lost during her depression. It made him feel guilty, as if there should have been something he could have done, or something he could yet do to keep her safer, healthier. In this moment, as the moonlight illuminated a few of her ribs, also prominent through her sweater, he felt more useless to protect her than ever.

He felt tears forming in the corners of his own eyes, and his hand, which had been an inch from her fell limp. Stubbornly, the tears spilled over, and fell silently down his cheeks, leaving frozen trails in their wake. He tried his voice, and regretted it, "Madge," he tried, but his voice was fighting through his throat, tight with contained sobs, and was barely a whisper. He tried again, but found himself mute with grief.

Marrying Madge had done nothing to make her happy after all.

Madge looked at him, moonlight playing across her face, which was wet with tears. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she had obviously been crying for some time. She tried her voice again, but they were both struck mute by their agony, and instead, she limply pawed at him with her hand, catching, just barely, his fist which he pressed into the ground.

The contact was like a rainstorm flooding a river, and all at once, they were swept up in each other. Arms entangled, holding each other like the world was about to cave in, and kissing each other as if their kisses were the very oxygen that would sustain them through the next few moments.

Their helplessness, their desperation reminded Gale of their first kisses, which they had shared, perhaps in this exact same spot.

Gale broke this frenzied embrace and asked her again, "Aren't you happy?"

This time, she found her voice, which came with a heaving sob, "_of course I am!_" She took his face in her hands and looked into his eyes through her tears as she spoke, "You married me. You chose me, us, our family."

"Of course I did," he was speaking far too loudly, but he couldn't believe this return to her family home was all about Katniss, still.

"I just-" Madge pushed away from him, suddenly, and folded her knees up to her chest, childishly as she whispered, almost to herself, "I wish my family were here."

A wave of relief washed over Gale, though he was helpless to solve his wife's plight. Her behavior had nothing to do with him, or with the way he had once felt about Katniss. She was sad about a past that neither of them could change.

"Or that they had ever been there, really," Madge added, bitterness coloring her hoarse voice.

Gale scooted over next to her, and copied her posture. They shared a long silence. Madge turned her face to the clear night sky. There were so many stars, and the moon glowed nearly as bright as the sun. The sky never looked like this in 2, and Gale realized that he had almost forgotten this night sky, the one whose company he sought when he wanted to be alone as a child.

He could see it, reflected in Madge's watery eyes as she turned them to meet his.

His words came automatically, and he knew, as soon as he spoke them, that they were true in an honest, flawed way, "I'm here."

He tried with his eyes to tell her that he always would be, a promise that, he feared if spoken aloud may invite disaster to make them a lie, so continued, "I'm your family now."

Madge leaned in to kiss him, and this kiss, to gentle, and fulfilling, and complete, was so different than the first angry, biting kiss they'd shared, Gale could only compare them by their scent, that of wild flowers. This kiss reminded him of the ataraxia he'd sought the night that Maysilee was conceived. They had been two awkward, uncertain teens who thought they had nothing to lose - and at the time, they had been right.

Perhaps that was what marriage was - giving each other something to lose, something worth protecting, worth keeping. Peace in a world that was still torn open and smoldering from the war. Love in a country that had taught its citizens only that value of hatred. In their marriage, they had found true unity, when all they had known, all their lives was complete and utter loneliness.

Madge leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her. As he felt her breathe against him, pressing herself so completely into him, that he could swear, in that moment, that they shared one heartbeat. He knew that neither of them would ever feel that loneliness, so long as they had each other, no matter what it was that lay ahead.

* * *

><p>Author's Note FTW:<br>Hi there team, Super Nova here. Wow, so at about 100,000 words, this story is finally over. We can't thank you all enough for your words of encouragement, your follows, and your favorites. We have had a great time writing this and it has really grown since Super V emailed me with the first half of the first chapter and asked if I wanted to collaborate with her. To which I said, "HELLZ YES," and Unity was born. And man, did it turn out pretty.

V says: This is my first fanfiction that made it to a computer, nonetheless to the internet, and without your support, and my wonderful writing partner Nova, this fic would not have blossomed into the beautiful flower I am so proud to call my own. (Our, own, is a better wording.)

Nova says: AND! This is my first ever fic that's more than 4,000 words long! So feel satisfied that your encouragement has enriched our lives and improved our writing skills!

The theory is that we write another story about the Hawthornes, the Everlarks, and whoever else in our band of excellence ends up there on the Voting Education tour. The next book would be more political intrigue and action with a hearty helping of romance to top it off. And, more Maysilee, who we know you just love. It will take us a bit to get this fic off the ground, and we have a few other projects going on, but we will find a way to post again and let y'all know the title for the new fic when we start it! It will be another wild adventure, so we hope you're along for that ride too!

V: Through this fic, I have found new and wonderful ways to love the characters introduced to us by the loverly and talented Suzanne Collins, and I hope you have too. Also, we can not forget to thank Suzanne Collins, Scholastic Media, and Lionsgate for bringing us the Hunger Games in its various formats. Also, thanks to my mom for introducing the books to me in the first place.

Nova: In the meantime, leave us a review so we know how this all turned out. Again, we appreciate you taking the time to read our words! Happy fandoming, everyone!


	26. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

Peeta could hear his footfalls on the quiet streets in the town. A thin layer of frost covers the ground, and even the special District 6 wheels of the cart complain a little bit of the cold, but the bread stays warm under the thick blanket covering it. Peeta Everlark had left his wife sleeping quietly under their quilt with a few soft kisses on her cheeks and forehead. The frost had chased away her game, who would not re-emerge until starvation brought them venturing later in the winter.

She could certainly still trap if she wanted, but Peeta had made a point to buy meat in town in order to encourage her to sleep more. Her nightmares had come back stronger since the excitement of the wedding had left District 12 to return to its humble self. He also had a sneaking suspicion that it had to do with the upcoming Voting Tour, which was looming closer as the Victory Tour had, so many years ago. He took a slow breath of chilled air, pursed his lips, and continued towards the square.

He sees others stirring for the day; the storekeepers brushing the frost off of their doorsteps and opening their shops. His first customer is a teenager, picking up bread for his family before school begins. School isn't as structured as it used to be, but the kids still go. One of the teachers is his next customer, and they spare each other tired smiles as they go about their days. He hears hammering from the shoemaker's shop, then slowly, young children come into the square, flanked by one of District 12's rare grandmothers, they are already immersed in a game of tag.

Peeta sets up shop in a corner of the square. It's not completely out of sight from the old bakery, but far enough from it to make it clear that Mellark Bakery and his own little stand, Star Crossed Buns, are not affiliated. The day warms as the sun makes its way across the sky. He exchanges news with the townspeople and listens to their gossip. As someone inevitably will, a young mother drops a hint, a question, as she hands her 2-month-old over to Peeta to coddle while she decides on some rolls, about when the Everlarks will welcome their own bundle of joy.

Peeta, though he has strong feelings on the topic himself, knows better than to feed rumors. He only wipes some spit-up from the baby's face with the corner of his apron and assures her with a kind smile that this child will certainly be old enough to baby-sit his, if they ever exist to be babysat. The woman, Kindra, the wife of a coal-miner-turned-construction-worker reclaims her baby and gives him a knowing look and only says, "Yes, but they do sneak up on you."

Peeta wants to tell her the truth, as she turns away with her child, that it will be two years at the very least, and that Katniss will not even speak on the topic. He wants to tell her how much it breaks his heart. How much he misses having Maysilee around. How much he yearns more than anything to truly grow something, give something beautiful back to this world. But he simply checks his stock and sorts his coins until his next customer appears. Katniss is fiercely private, perhaps now more than ever, with the Voting Tour looming in the near future.

Several more hours pass, more conversation, more bread. A few other questions he doesn't mind answering, like about their choice of a last name. He explains, as he has before about their choice to become a new family and to honor both of their old families by keeping parts of them in their name. He does not mention the morphlings, or how long it took Katniss to agree to legalize their marriage. If people want to assume that they've been married since their secret marriage at age 16, which they announced to all of Panem in a desperate effort to- who can even remember what now, something. Stay alive probably. With a smile, Peeta thought himself that if they wanted to assume that, they wouldn't even be wholly wrong.

Then, a little past noon, as he hears the train whistling away, a young man appears, Taylor. Peeta knows him well because he's the delivery-boy. Things that come in on the train pass through his hands before coming to the people they belong to. He has a cart much like Peeta's, with boxes and bins. Peeta greets him warmly, expecting that one of the crates is his, full of flour and sugar and hopefully the food coloring he so desperately wants to try out. But Taylor hands him an envelope. He is unsurprised to see it addressed to Peeta and Katniss Everlark, written in unmistakable cursive, and a clean, black stamp in one corner that says simply "HAWTHORNE," with a District Two address. He can't help but smile. The stamp so embodies the family it represents, clean cut and straightforward, even little Maysilee with her serious face and deep thoughts. The thought of the little girl renews the ache that had dulled in his chest, but he just smiles at Taylor, tipping him with a sticky bun.

He tucks the letter into his coat, and goes back to selling bread and chatting, but it seems to tug on him, as if the letter has weight greater than paper and an envelope could possibly hold. He tries to focus on his work, on the smiling faces and kind words of the people he knows, but this, the promise of news from his friends, seems to be all he can think about.

Finally, in a lull, he is able to open the envelope and dive in. Expecting more of Madge's cursive, he is surprised by a bright green and orange drawing of two people holding hands and a little purple, crookedly smiling figure off to the left, and hundreds upon hundreds of rainbow hearts. And three letters, a pretty solid M, a shaky P and an almost unrecognizable K.

There is another page, and he suppresses his desire to read it aloud.

_Dear Peeta and Katniss,_

_Momma is writing for me since I am still learning my letters. How are you? I am good! Guess what! I am four now! I am sad that you had to miss my birthday, it was a wonderful party! Momma and daddy got me a beautiful purple cake, but it was not as pretty as the one you made for momma and daddy's wedding, Peeta. I also got a new dress and new colors and a new toy dog! It was a fun party, some of my friends from school came and Finn and his moms and River and his mom and dad too. Gramma made me the warmest blanket and Auntie Posy gave me one of her dolls! Everyone brought me candy and we played games all day! I had to go to bed early though, since momma said I get as cranky as daddy when I'm "over-cited" and "have sugar-highs."_  
>Peeta laughs, trying to imagine Gale Hawthorne, whom he had spent so long at odds with that calling him a friend still felt strange, on a sugar high, or 'over-cited.'<p>

_I miss both of you and am happy we are going on vacation soon! Finn is always talking about the ocean, but I wonder, if it's so great, why isn't it here in the mountains? I don't think Finn likes mountains so much. I do, though. Don't you think they're pretty? I think they're kind of purply. Finn says the ocean is not purple, but he did say it changes all of the colors of the rainbow except purple. I don't think I believe him, but momma says I can decide for myself what color the ocean is. Momma says she's never seen the ocean either, but she wants to. _

Peeta's find his smile faltering, as he can almost hear Madge's lilting, sad voice in the words that she has written. The innocence, the simplicity of her desire to see the ocean just reminds him that his experiences, which include the Victory Tour of all the Districts of Panem are not shared by all of the citizens of 12, not even the rich ones.

_Peeta, are you baking bread like we did when I was there? Katniss, you still have to take me into the woods. I still want to go. Maybe we will have time on vacation, but momma and daddy keep telling me we are going to be very busy. I told them that's weird because vacation is not a busy time. They thought this was very funny but I don't know why. _

_I hope you are both doing good and I miss you. _  
><em>Love,<em>

Then there is that same, sturdy little M. Then, a little note that clearly comes from Madge,

_Gale and I are looking forward to seeing you both again. Gale had a thought the other day that we should maybe clear up- neither of you have left the district since the war, and from what I understand, Katniss isn't actually allowed to. Have you two spoken to anyone about that issue? I'm hoping that something can be done about that, but the earlier we check into it the earlier we can make proper preparations. We are doing well here, Maysilee's birthday did indeed go off without a hitch and we are preparing ourselves with the education material. There is a lot of it. I'm sending it separately, probably tomorrow. Some of it is a little complicated, but the ideas are going to be easy enough to get across. It's a 3 step process, Educate, Decide, Vote. We'll be actively involved in the "Educate," part, but the deciding is up to the people. We can only hope that voting actually results of it! _

_Gale sends his love, as do I. We would love to hear from the Everlark Family!_

_Love,_  
><em>Madge.<em>

Peeta smiles as he tucks the letter and Maysilee's picture safely in his pants pocket underneath his apron. He does spare a passing thought about the travel issue, but he's fairly certain that three years of recovery, a new last name and another promise to help save the world will ensure Katniss passage into the rest of Panem. It pays to have friends in high places. He also has a sneaking suspicion that Plutarch and Cressida will not stand by to have the famous Girl On Fire stuck in her district for this particular escapade - even if she's not 'on fire' anymore.

If not, well, they've accomplished more difficult things.

When he returns home that evening, he is greeted with a warm hug and a kiss from his wife. After all of the reflecting he has done over the course of the day, he can't help but marvel at how blindingly normal they are now. She has dinner on and Haymitch is ambling up the way to join them.

He looks strangely sober, Peeta notes, before wrapping Katniss in another hug and passing her the letter, which she reads over eagerly. Peeta studies her as her eyes dart over the words over and over again. He wonders how many times she read through it, and how much of it she has absorbed as she wordlessly pins the picture up on their wall. Then curiously, she studies the envelope, and runs her fingers across the "Hawthorne" stamped at the top. He means to ask her about it, but is interrupted by Haymitch:

"Well, Peeta, I would have bet the first art on these walls would have been yours, but I can see Katniss's masterpiece here has beaten you to it." Haymitch growls good-naturedly, standing before the picture.

"Maysilee drew it for us," Katniss snaps and adds in the same voice, "Do you want water or milk with dinner?"

Haymitch only laughs and responds that he'd take scotch. Peeta doesn't know what that is, and from the look on her face, neither does Katniss.

The trio sits for dinner and Peeta regales them of the news from town. He talks about Kindra's baby and the shipment from the train. As he is halfway through some gossip about a construction worker's son and an older woman, a transfer from District 8, Katniss throws her hands in the air.

"Haymitch, why won't you just come with us? You know you could help!"

To his credit, the aging man only raises one eyebrow. He is aging, Peeta knows. He is trying to drink less, and an almost permanent tremble has set into his hands and his skin is somewhat yellowed. But his eyes are steady and steely.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let an old man die in peace." The words hit hard, hang in the air for moment before Peeta can find his voice.

"You're not dying," Peeta says quietly, but finds himself studying Haymitch's lined face, doing math in his head. Haymitch is only in his 40's, he can't be-

"Since when are you someone who wants to go out in peace?!" Katniss rails.

Peeta wants to shoot her a look to calm her, but he agrees with her. Haymitch belongs on the Voting Education Tour. Somehow, he knows an awful lot about elections and history and that ancient concept they are trying to resurrect, a republic.

"You could help," Peeta starts quietly, and even as he says it his voice loses confidence, "and if you really aren't doing well, maybe they can help you in one of the richer districts, or the Capitol."

Now Haymitch shoots him a glare and stabs a piece of meat with his fork. The glare doesn't last long, and the silence doesn't either.

Katniss holds up a carrot on the end of her fork, not ready to give up, "And what good will you do here, Haymitch?"

"Maybe I'll run that cart of yours while you're gone," he barbs back, "People around here need bread and I'm pretty sure you two are spending your last pennies on tickets outta here. No income while you're gone?"

"You know better than anyone, Haymitch, that people here know how to bake their own bread," Peeta says quietly. He can hear Katniss starting to say something, and continues anyway, "And Katniss and I have received several strangely generous wedding gifts in the past few weeks," he sneaks a peek at her, then adds, "And we will always be able to feed ourselves, with or without coins."

This vindicates Katniss and she leans back in her chair smugly. Peeta has poked every hole imaginable in Haymitch's argument, yet he doesn't seem willing to budge. He stays silent and Peeta thinks again how lately he does look older. He does shake more. The yellow tinge on his skin is unsettling. And Haymitch has never smelled good, except in the Capitol, but now his odor is different and it does smell, well, old.

"I'm tired," he says, holding his hands together to suppress their shaking - a perfect image of crumbling dignity.

"I know," Peeta says, understanding, that Haymitch says this to mean something else. Something much more serious than tired.

"We're all tired," Katniss starts in an exasperated voice, but Peeta turns to her, trying to calm her. She shakes him off, and, betraying that she, too, understands that Haymitch doesn't just mean 'tired,' shouts, "That doesn't mean we can just give up on each other." Her voice is rough, and it is clear to Peeta that she is near tears. Yes. She understands that Haymitch looks old.

"Haymitch," Peeta says quietly, "What's really going on? What do you mean, tired?"

Haymitch's eyes swim. Peeta sees the look of shock on Katniss's face as for the first time in either of their memories, a tear slides down their mentor's face.

"It's called cirrhosis, kids. It's what happens when you try to drink yourself to death for almost thirty years." What he doesn't have to add is: _it works._"I am tired," he repeats silence is deafening.

Katniss barrels on, choking down tears, "You have to come with us. We can help you. We'll find a doctor, someone who can cure sir-sis or whatever, and,"

"Sweetheart, there's no cure. In the dark days they used to transplant livers. Now, I don't know a damn soul who's had it done."

She is pleading, "But they can still do it! I bet they still do it in the Capitol! We'll bring you with! I don't care what you say, I'll drag you there myself" Katniss is standing now, and yelling. Peeta's own tears become harder to fight back at the sound of pain in her voice.

Peeta and Haymitch are silent together, Haymitch's eyes plead with Peeta. After all these years, Haymitch does not want to go out with a bang. He wants to go down in quiet embers. He wants to die with a bottle in his hand, in his home, with his geese outside and the knowledge that Peeta and Katniss now do not need a mentor.

While he would like to believe that this was true, that he and Katniss could live their lives now without Haymitch telling them what to do, he just isn't sure. They didn't have any parents left, at least not any who they could turn to in their time of need. There would always be questions, there would always be problems. They would always need Haymitch, not just as a mentor, but as their family.

From the moment Haymitch dragged them both from the first arena, beaten, bloodied, but victorious, it had been unspoken, but nevertheless true. The three of them were a family of incomplete, damaged people, who could only fight through the days when everything was unbearable because the other two were there.

The thought of a world without Haymitch was too much to bear. The thought of him, dying alone while they toured Panem trying to build a future he had given everything for, but would never see finally brought the tears spilling down Peeta's cheeks. There would be no protecting Haymitch from this. It was not an enemy that could be fought. He closes his eyes, defeated, and a memory surfaces.

Across the table sat Haymitch, with Maysilee on his lap, pretending to finish off her mug of hot chocolate, much to her dismay. Peeta pictured Haymitch's smile as he revealed to her her still-full cup and she burst into a fit of giggles. The words escape Peeta's lips involuntarily.

"You'd never meet our children," Peeta whispers.

Katniss makes an outraged noise and storms from the room, but not before glaring fiercely at both of them and making an ineffective obscene gesture. A door slams somewhere in the house and, inevitably, angry yells can be heard dissolving into sobs.

Haymitch continues the conversation as though Katniss had not just thrown a tantrum, "No. I would never get to meet the little Everlarks, but I hope there's a nest of them at least as terrible as she is."

Peeta laughs sadly at this, but he can only say, "I hope so too."

* * *

><p>Author's Note:<p>

V: This is our epilogue of sorts to our wonderful story, Unity! You might be thinking, why on earth is there an epilogue to a story that was marked as complete?! This is mainly because we wanted to introduce an exciting cliff-hanger to be explored in our forthcoming sequel, "Uniting" - Haymitch's disease, and of course, Katniss and Peeta's dissonance over the idea of children.

We also wrote this loverly little chapter to plug our blog where we have posted "Unity" in its entirety, in addition to Nova/Easy A's and V's other Hunger Games fics, V's Hunger Games fan films, HOPEFULLY SOME ARTWORK and SONGS from the authoresses, and more!

FF dot net hates when you post ur'ls, so here it is. We know you're all smartie-pants and can figure it out: Easyasuperv dot tumblr dot com. Replace the dots with periods and you've got it!

Please please please check it out! We started it when someone mentioned in a review that our story had been tumbled about! We thought it would be a new and exciting way to reach readers, the new and the faithful alike!


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